A 



GRAMMAR OF LOGIC 



AND 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, 



DIDACTIC PRINCIPLES; 



FOR THE USE OP 



COLLEGES, SCHOOLS, AND PRIVATE INSTRUCTION. 



BY ALEXANDER JAMIESON, 

AUTHOB OF A TREATISE ON THE CONSTRUCTIorf OF MAPS, A GRAMMAR OF RHETOIUf 

AND POLITE LITERATURE, CONVERSATIONS ON GENERAL HISTORY, EDITOR 

OF THE FIFTH AND IMPROVED EDITION OF ADaMs's ELEMENTS 

OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE, &C. &C. 



Understanding is a well-spring of life to him that hath it. 

Prov. xvi. 22 



a:enll) fStrftfon, StereotgpeH* 



x\EW YORK: 
KIGQINS, TpOKER & CO., 

123 ife 125 WiXLIAM STKEET. 



K\ 



3Cio/ 
j&io 



Jiiii 



III Bxchaag^ 
Army"' A'nd Kayy' 01 Ul^ 
Of ^x>';i«nington D^^ 



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INTRODUCTION. 






Grammar, Logic, and Rhetoric are the handmaids of Liter- 
ature, Science and Philosophy. The study of grammar is the 
study of LANGUAGE, and memory is the faculty which it chiefly 
employs and exercises. Bin in proceeding towai'ds the cultiva- 
tion of TASTE and genius, the acquisition of science, and other 
ulterior objects of education, the faculties most susceptible of 
improvement and refinement tire the imagination and the 
understanding. 

• Polite Literature is addressed to the imagination and 
ihti understanding in conjunction ; science is addressed to the 
understanding alone. 

With the view, therefore, of conducting youth from tPie mere 
exercise of memory, in the study of language, towards investiga- 
' ons on the powers of the umlerstanding, in the regions of sci- 
t^nce, my Grammar of Rhetoric and Polite Literature pro- 
fesses, by a proper gradation, to occupy the mind, for some time, 
in those agreeable prospects exhibited to the imagination, and in 
those interesting speculations, also, addressed to the understand- 
ing, with which the arts of speaking and writing so amply 
abound. 

But the most successful initiation and discipline into the re- 
searches of philosophy, are disquisitions about the objects with 
which we are familiar, and inquiries into the operations of the 
human mind, which we every day experience. And Logic has 
been justly styled tlit histoi-y of the human mind, inasmuch as it 
traces the progress of our knowledge, from our first and simr)]'j 
perceptions, through all their different combinations, and all thos;' 
numerous deductions, that result from variously comparing the! i 
one with another. For it is thus, only, that we are let into thf 
frame and contexture of our own minds, — that we learn in what 
manner we ought to conduct our thoughts, in order to arrivi; 
at truth, and avoid error, — that we see how to build one discovery 
upon another, and, by preserving the chain of reasoning uni- 
form and unbroken, to pursue the relations of things through 
all their labyrinths and windings, and at length exhibit them 
to tlie view of the soul with all the advantages of light and 
"onviction. 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

I, therefore, trust that this Grammar of Logic and Intel- 
lectual Philosophy will be found adequate to initiate youth in 
that history, and to resolve such inquiries respecting the oper- 
ations of their own minds, as they daily experience. 

The plan of the volume is briefly as follows :-— 

The First Book is devoted exclusively to the Definition of 
terms — Prelirainaiy explanations — Enumeration of principles 
which are taken for granted — Inquiries into the nature and value 
of hypotheses — The doctrine of analogy — The proper means of 
knowing the operations of our own minds — The difficulty of 
attending to these operations, with observations which may assist 
us in overcoming this difficulty, — and, finally, A comprehensive 
division of the powers of the human mind. 

The Second Book embraces Elements of Intellectual Philos- 
ophy^ calculated to instruct youth in a knowledge of those princi- 
ples to which the development of the mental faculties may be 
traced, and upon which we rest all our knowledge of legitimate 
logic. These elements comprise analyses of the faculties, Con- 
sciousness — Sensation — Perception — Attention — Conception — 
Abstraction — Association — Memory — Imagination — Judgment 
— Reason —- Moral Perception. ^ * 

The Third Book treats on Subjects of collateral Inquiry with 
the Intellectual Powers^ — such, for example, as the Primary and 
Secondary qualities of bodies — Natural language and signs —Mat- 
ter and Space — Duration, Extension, and Number — Identity — 
The train of thought in the Mind — and Prejudices. 

The Fourth Book — TVte Gramrnar of Logic — unfolds the 
doctrines of Ideas — Propositions — Sophisms — Reasoning and 
Syllogism. 

The Fifth Book concludes the volume, with a brief sketch 
>f The Philosophy of Human Knowledge, as it is addressed to the 
MEMORY, the understanding, and the imagination. 

The foregoing arrangement was dictated by motives which the 
following observations pretend to explain. 

In a work that treats of Logic and Intellectual Philosophy, and 
where selection is so imperiously required, there must be an 
equal necessity that certain fixed and intelligible principles should 
be preestablished. Nor, in handling subjects that have been 
controverted, and which, from their very nature, are ever liable 
to discussion, is there any thing of more consequence than agree- 
ment, at the outset, about the language we use ; for, when, in 
philosophical disquisitions, we are once agreed respecting the 
signification of the words and terms we employ, it is unlikely 
that we shall differ about their application, provided we continue 
to use them in the sense which we had already affixed to them : 
hence the position and division of Book First, 

A knowledge of the powers of the human mind, and of the 
science of Intellectual Philosophy, furnishes the proper basia 
Muon which every other science is grounded, because the human 



INTRODUCTION. ' 9 

faculties are the instruments by which alone invention in all the 
sciences can be accomplished. 

The examination and analysis of these faculties reciprocal- 
ly open sources of intellectual improvement, and exercise the 
student in habits of thinking, judging, reasoning, and commu- 
nication, upon which depend, not merely the study of logic, and 
the further prosecution of science, but almost entirely the active 
business of life. Nor does it appear to me that any other pro- 
cess could, with equal certainty of success, be adopted, by 
which the mind of youth, launching into a new and pleasing 
field of speculation, might be enabled to form an estimate of 
its own powers, of the acquisitions it has made, of the habits 
it has formed, and of the further improvements of which it is 
susceptible. For, when the student has acquired those habits of 
attention, and that capacity of observation, which the study of 
his intellectual powers must necessarily give him, it is then, and 
not till then, I have no hesitation in affirming, that he is quali- 
fied to enter upon a philosophical, but popular course of Logic. 

Besides, as the progress of the intellectual powers is not pre- 
maturely quickened, an acquaintance with the phenomena of the 
human mind, arranged so as to enable us to profit by our per- 
sonal experience, cannot be a subject of abstract speculation, 
but must be the channel through which we advance to the highest 
endowments of the understanding. 

But the professed object of Logic is to teach us the right 
USE OF REASON, both in the investrgation and in the commu- 
nication of TRUTH. 

I have already pointed out the relation in which I conceive 
Rhetoric to stand to Grammar and Logic, and, without 
arrogating pretensions to superior discernment, which would 
only lay me open to the suspicion of a particular prejudice, I 
do not see how it is possible to conduct ingenuous youth upwards 
from the correctness of theii' taste to the cultivation of their nnder- 
standings but by previously explaining to them the faculties of 
the mind, and their various operations with which we are imme- 
diately or remotely conversant, the circumstances favorable or 
unfavorable to the development of those faciflties, and the 
means by. which their improvement may be most successfully 
undertaken. 

In the execution of this task, I was also laid under an im- 
perious necessity of banishing from my work all the trifling 
subtilties of the ancient Logicians, all the logomachy of the 
schools, all the puzzling distinctions which perplex us in most 
of the popular treatises of our modern philosophers. But I do 
not thence lay claim to any new discoveries either in the science 
of mind, or in the art of Logic. 

It has been with me a principle of paramount importance, to 
endeavor to select the most unexceptionable materials from the 
most approved works of my predecessors or contemporaries, 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

employed, like myself, in extending the elements of science. And 
those subjects which seemed l:^est adapted for the employment 
of youth at the comtnencement of their philosophical studies, I 
iiave labored to present to them in this book witli faithfulnesa 
and assiduity in their selection, and with simplicity and intelli- 
gibility in their form and arrangement. 

Of the difficulty of executing an acceptable compilation of the 
ELEMi.NT5> OF THfc SCIENCE OF MIND with analyses of the intel- 
lectual powers, in* the order of their connection and dependence, 
it would be suj)erfluous to reason with empirics who have not 
added one iota to literature or to science. But the philoso[)her 
and the critic know that judgment in selection, perspicuity of 
style, and compression of argumentation, the great requisite.^ of 
every writer who would not become duil from crudity of concep- 
tion, nor obscure from prolixity of reasoning, are indispensa'ole 
to give anciently-received truths and established modern discov- 
eries those charms which shall fascinate readers in the purple 
bloom of youth. And in pleasing .satisfaction will my mind now 
repose, if, among the unambitious pretensions of a compiler, the 
reasonings which support tiiose truths shall be found to possess 
conciseness, and the illustrations of those discoveries no more 
expansion of proof than the different steps of their relative pro- 
cesses required ^ for, with youth whose mental faculties we would, 
by active discipline, invigorate, improve, and embellish, brevity is 
not less the soul of reasoning than of wit. Their knowledge, 
however, is not to rest on tarnished fragments struck oif from 
splendid systems, nor on defective models the relics of doubt- 
ful institutes; but on the details of human knowledge, and such 
discipline of education as shall accustom them to exert their intel- 
lectual faculties, without preparation, and render them prompt in 
expedient, and active in resource. 

Sufficient, however, has been said on Book Second, as well 
to show its high importance, as to satisfy every impartial reader, 
that, to have omitted it, or assigned to it any other place in the 
volume, would have evinced culpable neglect or capricious 
arrangement. 

To have blended with the subjects in the Second Book those 
which constitute the Third, would have created a species of 
confusion, which, in elementary works, should always 1)0 avoid- 
ed; and, besides, the relative importance this Book bears to 
the Second and the Fourth reciprocally, allotted to it that neutrality 
which makes it of easier reference to the numerous subjects 
that it may collaterally illustrate, or with which, in many in- 
etances, its materials may be directly conjoined. Nor is this 
the only light in which Book Third may be viewed. If the 
subjects of which it is composed be considered abstractedly, 
then does the student enter upon disquisitions and analyses of 
tr-parate branches of intellectual philosophy, of primary 
iiiiportance on his entrance upon philosophical studies. But 



INTRODUCTION. 1 1 

it iB unnecessary to offer proofs for that which is clear as 
sunshine. 

Of Book Fourth, assigned to Pure Logic, I shall say a 
few words. But I premise, that of all arts, that surely is en- 
titled to attention which pretends to tell us how we may im- 
prove and properly employ the understanding, — the faculty 
by which man is most eminently distinguished above the other 
creatures of this world, and by which, perhaps, he partakes 
most of the constitution of superior natures. Now, Logic is 
that art. Its professed purpose, as we have observed above, 
is to teach us the right use of reason, both in the investigation 
and in the communication of truth; — to inform us how to 
introduce clearness and good order among our ideas ; — to explain 
the operations of the mind which are conversant about those 
ideas ; and by the pfoper exercise of which operations, we shall 
be least in danger of deviating into error. 

The understanding is occupied entirely with knowledge — 
the end of all science is to instruct us in knowledge; and the 
same end is pursued by ail study, whether prudential, political, 
moral, or mechanical. In what way soever we exert and exer- 
cise our understanding, it is to obtain some information that 
we did not before possess ; and the design of logic, considered 
as an art, is to hold forth the manner of attaining that knowledge 
with the greatest ease and expedition. 

From ttiese views of the nature and end of Logic, it is appar- 
ent, that it claims our attention as one of the first arts to which 
we should apply, in our progress to.vards knowledge, either as 
the best means of fortifying or of improving the understanding. 
The more acute the understanding is, the more successful will 
it be in the investigations of science. The less it is liable to err, 
the more certain and expeditious will be its progress in new and 
untried pursuits. The more we are acquainted with those sophis- 
tries which have misled other reasoners, the less liable shall we 
be to fall into smiilar mistakes. The better we luiderstand the 
nature of the instrument which we employ, we may reasonably 
expect to be more expert and successful in its use. Every thing, 
then, in Logic, that does not contribute to improve the under- 
standing, and to promote our progress in useful knowledge, 
deserves no attention ; but every thing, on the other hand, 
that promotes these ends, cannot obtain more attention than 
it deserves. 

Though no art ever gave occasion to so much idle research 
and fanciful refinement :s Logic; though none ever so much 
bewildered the human mind, and repressed every useful exer- 
tion of the understanding, as that which pretended to enlighten 
and improve this faculty, and to guide it in the road to truth; 
though aj] the syllogism of the schools, afler the thousand vol- 
* uiiies that have been Avritten on it, and after the employment of a 
series of ages to bring it to perfection, never enriched science 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

or art with one useful discovery, — we must not rashly conclude 
that these abuses furnish proofs of the general inutility, or insig- 
nificance, of Logic as an ait. 

As, then, the sophistiy and absurdity with which Logic has 
been disgraced, are no valid objections against its use in a philo- 
sophical course of education, so neither is it to be contemned be- 
cause we hear some men reason very justly without any acquaint- 
ance with its rides. There is in all mankind some natural logic, 
for it is one of those arts which may be learned by practice, with 
out the knowledge of theory. 

One of the best methods of making progress in the art of 
reasoning, is actual practice, or the acquisition of the habit of 
examining a train of ideas constituting an argument ; and of this 
branch of the art all men acquire some share by experience — 
many men acquire a great deal ; but though long experience in 
sound reasoning may render us expert logicians, in the same man- 
ner as practice, without the knowledge of principles, may form 
eminent practitioners in any other art, yet this success will not 
justify any inference against the utility, or even the propriety of 
the theory. The end of all theory in the arts, is, to render us 
more methodical and reputable in their performance; and a 
knowledge of the principles on which, in this volume, the art of 
Logic is founded, can scarcely fail to facilitate the progress of 
youth in becoming good reasoners. 

Of this they may be assured, if they have sufficient candor to 
admit there is such a thing as good reasoning, that there is 
no accomplishment or qualification any man can acquire more 
important than the art of reasoning well. Whether, then, youth 
shall become, in life, men of speculation or men of business, in 
every step they take, their rational faculties must be con- 
stantly exercised ; and the subject of which we now speak is 
calculated entirely to render them expert and successful in 
that exercise. 

The Fifth Book, which offers a sketch of " The Philoso- 
phy of Human Knowledge," seemed a necessary Appendix to 
the volume ; but it was not my object, in the compass of a 
few pages, to enter upon a subject which I intend to publish 
in a separate work, as a sequel to my Grammars of Rhetoric 
and Logic. 

And, for the purpose of initiating youth in the doctrines 
of the Philosophy of Mind, I have constructed, on this Grammar 
of Logic, a Book of "Questions and Exercises," with a " Key" to 
the same; as, in my hum.ble judgment, no discipline is more suc- 
cessful in accomplishing its end, than that which reduces litera- 
ture, philosophy, and science, to interlocutory discourse, conduct- 
ed in the style and manner of a spirited dialogue. The ease with 
which the entire volume may be converted into " Dialogues on 
Logic and Intellectual Philosophy," by means of its companion, 
the " Book of Questions," can only be equalled by the advantages 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

which youth ever derive from catechetical instruction, possessing 
the sprightliness of hving language, and familiarizing the speak- 
ers to unpremeditated extempore discussion. If any thing can 
verify the observations contained in this Introduction, it must be 
the practice of the catechetical method which I novi^ recomnjend 
— a practice which distinguished the instructions of Socrates, 
which Plato has preserved in his Dialogues, and to which Cicero 
has reduced alniost all his philosophical writings. 

ALEXANDER JAMIESON 

London, March^ 1819. 



CONTENTS. 



BOOK I. 

Chapter. Page, 

I. Terms defined and explained 17 

II. Principles taken for granted 27 

III. Of Hypotheses 32 

IV. Of Analogy ^ 

V. Of the proper Means of knowing the Operations of 

our own Minds 38 

VI. Of the Difficulty of attending to the Operations 
OF OUR OWN Minds, interspersed with Observations 

which may assist us in overcoming this Difficulty 40 

VII, Divisions of the Powers of the Mind 42 



BOOK IL 

OF THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 

I. Or Consciousness 45 

II. Of Sensation 46 

HI. Of Perception.. 50 

IV. Of Attention > 53 

V. Of Conception 61 

VI. Of Abstraction 66 

Of Abstract or General Terms 67 

Of General Conceptions 70 

Of General Conceptions formed by analyzing Objects 73 

Of the Operation of Generalizing 75 

General Conceptions formed by Combinations 77 

VII. Of the Association of Ideas, or Combination 84 

Association by essential Relations 86 

Accidental Relations or Sources of Association 93 

Of the Influence of Association on our various Judgments 96 

As it affects the Decisions of Taste ib. 

As it affects the speculative Opinions of Mankind 97 

The Influence of arbitrary Association, as it affects our 

Moral Jud o-ment 101 

VIII. Of Memory 102 

Things obvious- with regard to Memory ih. 



CONTENTS. 15 

CHArxER. Page. 

Memory an original Faculty 104 

Analysis of the Faculty of Memory IvS 

Varieties of Memory in different Individuals 107 

Of the Decay of Memory in old People 109 

Of the Improvement of Memory 110 

IX. Of Imagination 112 

Analysis of the Operations of Imagination 113 

Of Imagination in its Relation to some of the Fine Arts. . . 120 

The Relation of Imagination and of Taste to Genius 122 

Of the Influence of Imagination on Human Character and 

Happiness ^ 123 

On the Culture of the Imagination. 125 

X. Of Judgment 127 

Analysis of this Faculty in general ih. 

Of the Exercise of Judgment in the Formation of Abstract 

and General Conceptions 131 

Of tlie Objects of Sense * . J i .i 

XI. Of Rfason. 135 

Definition and Analysis of this Faculty ib. 

Of Demonstrative Reasoning 1 39 

Of Probable Reasoning 141 

Division of Probable Evidence into different Kinds 143 

XII. Of Moral Perception 149 

The Rational Principles of Action in Man ib. 

Of Regard to our Good on the whole 1.50 

Analysis of Conscience, or the Moral Principle 153 

Analysis of Duty, Rectitude, and Moral Obligation 1.56 

Analysis of the Sense of Duty 158 

Of Moral Approbation and Disapprobation 160 



BOOK III. 

SUBJECTS OF COLLATERAL INQUIRY WITH THE IN- 
TELLECTUAL POWERS. 

I, Of the primary and secondary Qualities of Bodies.. 162 

11. On Natural Language and Signs 165 

III. Of M atter and Space 168 

IV. Of Duration 171 

V. Of Identity 173 

What is meant by Identity in general ib. 

Of Personal Identity 174 

VI. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind 177 

VII. Of Prejudices... 187 

Prejudices of the first Class, or Idola Tribus IBS 

Prejudices of the second Class, or Idola Specus 193 

Prejudices of the third Class, or Idola Fori 194 

The Prejudices of the fourth Class, or Idola Theatri ll^i 

Rules to prevent Prejudices, and direct our Judgments. . . . 200 

Concluding Remarks 20G 



16 CONTENTS. 



BOOK IV. 

GRAMMAR OF LOGIC. 
Chapter. Page, 
I. Of Ideas 207 

Of simple and complex Ideas 208 

Of distinct and confused Ideas ih. 

Of adequate and inadequate Ideas 209 

Of particular or abstracted Ideas 210 

Rules for the Acquisition and Examination of Ideas and 

Words 21J 

Of the Ambiguity of Words 215 

Of Enumeration, Description, and Definition.. 219 

II. Of Proposition's 223 

Knowledge and Truth ih. 

Different Kinds of Propositions 225 

Sources of Human Knowledge 228 

Of mathematical, moral, political, and prudential Reason- 
ing 232 

Different Species of Reasoning .^ 238 

Examples of Reasoning a Priori 240 

Example of Reasoning a Posteriori , ih. 

Analytic and Synthetic Reasoning 241 

Example of Analytic Reasoning 242 

III. Of Sophistry 243 

IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism 249 

Of the Constitution of Syllogisms 250 

Of plain, simple Syllogisms, and their Rules. 253 

Of the Modes and Figures of simple Syllogisms 255 

Of complex Syllogisms , 259 

Of conjunctive Syllogisms 261 

Of compound, imperfect, or irregular Syllogisms 265 

Of the Merit of Syllogistic Reasoning 272 



BOOK V. 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 

I. Human Knowledge addressed to the Memory 278 

II. Human Knowledge addressed to the Understand- 
ing , 285 

III. Human Knowledge addressed t) the Imagination.. 295 



GRAMMAR OF LOGIC 



AND 



INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 



BOOK L 

CHAPTER I. 

TERMS DEFINED AND EXPLAINED. 

1. The professed end of logic is to teach men to thinks 
to judge, to reason, and to communicate their thoughts to 
each other with precision and accuracy. 

Observation 1. This, then, being the design of logic, it has justly 
been styled the history of the human mind ; inasmuch as it traces 
the progress of our knowledge from oor first and simple percep- 
tions, through all the different combinations, and all those numerous 
deductions, which result from variously comparing these perceptions 
one with another. 

2. It is thus that we are let into the frame and contexture of our 
own minds, and learn in what manner we ought to conduct our 
thoughts, in order to arrive at truth and avoid error. We see how 
to build one discovery upon another, and, by preserving the chain of 
reasoning uniform and unbroken, to pursue the relations of things 
through all their labyrinths and windings, and at length exhibit them 
to the mind with all the advantages of light and conviction. 

2. By the mind of man, we understand that in him which 
tJiinks, a,nd feels, and wills, and which is conscious of its ac- 
tions or operations. 

3 The essence of body, as well as that of mind, is un- 
known to us. We know certain properties of the fir^t. and 
1 



18 A Grammar of Logic, book i. 

certain opcratlQii^ of the last, and by these properties and 
operations we define or describe both body and iiiind. 

4. We detine body to be timt which is extended, figured, 
colorable, movable, divisible, hard or soft, rough or smooth, 
hot or cold ; that is, we define it in no other way than by 
enumerating its sensible qualities. 

5 In like manner we define niind to be that which 
thinks. We are not immediately conscious of its existence, 
but we are conscious of sensation, thought, and volition- 
operations which imply the existence of something that feels, 
thinks, and wills. Every man, too, is impressed with an ir- 
resistible conviction, that all these sensations, thoughts, and 
volitions, belong to one and the same being, which he calls 
Jiiinself; a being which he is led, by the constitution of his 
nature, to consider as something distinct fi-om his body, as 
not liable to be impaired by the loss or mutilation of any of 
his organs ; and this being, this principle of intelligence, we 
call the mind or >;oul of man. 

6. When we witness the effects of similar operations or 
actions performed by our fellow-men, we have sufficient evi- 
dence that all hum.an beings have minds. 

Ohs. 1. The conduct of brute animp.ls, too. proves that they have 
a thinking principle, though of a nature very inferior to that of man, 
insomuch that its principal qualities are included in those of the human 
intellect. 

2. The proofs of intelligence and of superintending providence, 
which are amply furnished by a survey of nature's works, lead us to 
a firm belief in the existence of a supreme and all-governing Mind, 
of a nature infinitely superior to that of the minds of ruen. 

3. Many speculative men, both ancient and modern, have conjec- 
tured that those natural phenomena which cannot be easily explained 
by mere matter and motion, are the operations of various orders of 
intelligent beings, in the universe, of various rank and^ dignity. 
Others have been inclined to explain these phenomena by the agency 
of beings that are active without intelligence, so as to perform their 
destined v/ork without any knowledge or intention. But we may 
safely say, that, whatever may be the result of future investigations 
or discoveries, we have, as yet, no certain evidence with respect to 
either of these conjectures. 

?. By the operations of the mind, we understand every 
moae of thinking of which we are conscious. 

In all languages, as far as we know, the various modes of thinking 
have always been called operations of the mind, or by names of the 
same import. 

8. We ascribe to body various propcrtie^y but not opera- 
tions • it is extended, divisible, movable, inert ; it contin* 



CHAP. 1. Term,$ defined and explainea, 19 

ues in any state m which it is put ; every change of its state 
is the effect of some force impressed upon it, and is exactly 
proportional to the force impressed, and in the precise di- 
rection of that force. 

These are the general properties of matter, and these are not op- 
erations ; on the contrary, they imply its being a dead, inactive 
thing, which moves only as it is moved, and acts only as it is acted 
upon. 

9. But the mind is, from its very nature, a living and ac- 
tive being. Every thing we know of it implies life and ac- 
tive energy ; and the reason why all its modes of thinking 
are called its operations, is, that in all, or in most of them, 
it is not merely passive, as body is, but is really and properly 
active. 

10. In all ages, and in all languages^ ancient and modern, 
the various modes of thinking have been expressed by words 
of active signification ; such as seeing, hearing, reasoning, 
willing, and the like. 

Corollary. It seems, therefore, to be the natural judgment of 
mankind, that the mind is active in its various ways of thinking; and 
for this reason they are called its operations, and are expressed by 
active verbs. 

11. Every operation supposes a power in the being that 
operates ; for to suppose any thing to operate, which has no 
power to operarte, is manifestly absurd. But, on the other- 
hand, there is no absurdity in supposing a being to have 
power to operate, when that being does not operate. 

Illustration. Thus, I may have power to walk, when I sit; or to 
speak, when I am silent. 

Coral. Every operation, therefore, implies power; but the powei 
does not imply its being always exerted to produce an operation. 

12. The ierm^ faculty wcidi power, as applied to the mind, 
are not exactly synonymous, though they are often taken in 
the same radical meaning. The latter is of more extensive 
import than the former, since it may be used in relation to 
material as well as mental objects. 

13. From observing the changes which are made, or the 
effects w^hich are produced, by one external object upon an- 
other, as well as by these objects upon the mind, thiough the 
medium of the senses, \nq derive our first notion of powr. 

Illus. 1. Thus, if a needle be placed on a table, standing horizon- 
tally, it lies at rest; but if a magnet be brought within a certain di>s 
tance of the needle, ir.otion instantly commences, and the needle 
rushes to the magnet. You have witnessed the change ; you contem- 
plate the effect — the two objocts are conjoined Remove the ma^*- 



20 A Grammar of Logic. book i. 

net, leave the needle on the table at rest, and place a piece of flini 
where the magnet lay when it attracted the needle, no motion takes 
place, the needle remains at rest. 

2. Now, that in the magnet which produced motion in the needle, 
is not perceivable by the senses; for it is neither in the shape, nor 
in the color, nor in the weight of the substance called magnet 
that this singular property resides. But to that unknown something, 
to that unperceived energy in the magnet^ the term power is given ; 
and when we speak of this energy or property in relation to the ef- 
fect — that is to- say, the conjunction of the two objects — we call i1 
the cause of the motion that we witnessed in the needle rushing t( 
the magnet. 

3. This is an apt illustration of the connection, or relation, that sub 
sists between cause and effect. 

14. By observing the changes of motion and direction in 
the several members of the body, arising from an act of the 
will, we arrive at a similar conclusion. We are conscious 
of an exercise of that faculty, and we observe, at the same 
instant, that a change in the members of the body has taken 
place. We are likewise conscious of certain acts of the 
will directing the motions of the mind. The act of the will 
and the corresponding change are, in all those cases, so closely 
conjoined, that they naturally force themselves upon our ob- 
servation, and, ever after, remain associated in the particular 
relation of cause and effect. What did we observe more 
than the change 1 Nothing. — We saw indeed a fact, in a 
particular circumstance, resulting as a consequent from an 
antecedent ; but of the cause, that is to say, the power, con- 
sidered metaphysically, we can form no distinct notion. 

15. We can entertain clear and distinct notions of an ef- 
fect, while we find it impossible to penetrate into the nature 
of the cause whence that effect proceeds. Of the effects, 
for instance, which spring from the union of mind and body, 
in the human constitution, we have a lively perception ; but 
of the principle upon which that union is founded, we can- 
not form the most remote conception. 

Illus. 1. But to illustrate that our purest and most correct notions 
oi power are derived from mind, lay a ball on a billiard table, and 
it lies at rest ; but bring a mace in contact with the ball, and it is 
instantly put in motion. In this case, though the hand of a human 
being moved the mace — though the mace, hitting the ball, put it in 
motion — the source of that motion is traced up to the mind, which, 
by an act of the will to move the ball, stretches forth the bodily or- 
gan that grasped the mace. 

2. Again, let us conceive a painter painting his own likeness. 
The brush which he uses, and which comes in contact with the 
canvass, possesses no power of forming a likeness of itself, far lessf 



CHAP I. Terms defined and explained. 2t 

of the human countenance. Nor is the power in the hand of the 
artist, which, as in the former example, obeys the will ; nor in his 
eye, though it be thp chief organ on which the correctness of the 
likeness depends; and it resides iiot in the mirror, which takes no 
part in the operation of painting; but the source of motion in the 
eye and in the hand, is in the mind, which, by an act of the will, ex- 
erts the eye in viewing one object, and in conveying back to the 
mind its view of another object, that the hand delineates. 

16. It is said above, that the terms faculty and power have 
nearly the same radical meaning. The term poioer is used 
in relation both to material and mental objects. Thus a 
stone has the power of falling to the ground. The term 
facility is used in reference to the understanding and volition 
of tiie hun^an mind. The terms now defined are not applied 
to the passions of the 0)ul of man ; for to those active ener- 
gies, or principles, as desire, hatred, joy, love, anger, revenge, 
&/€., we never use such expressions as the '* faculty of desire," 
or the "• pow^er of hatred." 

17. There is a distinction between things in the mind 
and things external to the mind. The powers, faculties, and 
operations of the mind, are things in the mind. Every 
thing is said to be in the mind of which the mind is the 
subject. 

18. It is evident, that there are some things which cannot 
exist without a subject to which they belong, or of which 
they are attributes. 

Illus. Thus, color mast be i/i something colored; figure in some- 
thing figured; thought, being an act of mind, can only belong 
to something that acts or thinks ; and volition cannot exist but in 
some being that wills. When, therefore, we speak of things in the 
mind, we understand by this, things of which the mind is the sub- 
ject. 

19. Excepting the mind itself, and things within the mind, 
all other things are said to be external, or without the mind. 

/ 20. There is a figurative sense in which things are said to 
be in t!he mind. 

JUus. Thus we say, such a thing is not in our mind,* meaning nc 
more than that we had not the least thought of it. For, by a figure, 
we put the thing for the thought of it. In this sense, external things 
anf in the mind as often as they are objects of thought. 

21. Thinking is a very general word, that includes all the 
operations of our minds. 

22, To perceive, to remember, to be conscious, and to con- 
ceJve or imagine, are words that signify different operations 
of mind, which are distinguished in all languages, and by 
all men that think. 

1* 



S2 A Grammar of Logic. book i, 

Illus. 1. We a.j;f^ never said to perce'vc things, of the existence of 
which we have not a. full conviction. We may amccive or imagine a 
mountain of gold, or a winged horse ; but no man says that he y;er- 
ctiv s such a creature of imagination as a winged horse. Thus, per- 
ccption is distinguished from (onceptiun, or imagination. 

2. Perception is appUed only to external objects, not to those that 
are in the mind itself. When I am pained, I do not say, that I per- 
ceive pain, but that I feel it, or that I am conscious of it. Thus, ptr- 
ception is distinguished from amsciousness 

3. The immediate object of perception must be soiriething present, 
and not what is past. We may remember what is past, but we do not 
perceive it. I may say, I perceive such a person has had the small- 
pox ; but this phrase is figurative, althoiigh the figure is so familiar 
that it is not observed. The moaning of it is, that I perceive the pits 
in his face, which are certain signs of his having had the small-pox. 
We say that we perc^ve the thing signified, when we perceive only 
the sign. But when the V7oid perception m-^sed properly, and with- 
out any figure, it is never applied to things past; and thus it is distin- 
guished from remembrance. 

23. Perception is most properly applied to the evidence 
which we have of external objects by our senses. Seeing, 
bearing, smelling, tasting, and touching or feelnig, are words 
that express the operations proper to each sense ; perceiving 
expresses that which is common to them all. 

24. Consciousness signifies that immediate knowledge 
which we have of our present thoughts and purposes, and, 
in general, of all the present operations of our minds. To 
apply consciousness, therefore, to things past, is to confound 
it with memory. 

Consciousness is only of things in the mind, and not of 
things external, or without the mind. 

25. Conceiving, imagining, and apprehending , are com- 
monly used as synonymous in opr language, and signify the 
same thing which the logicians call simple apprehension.' 

I Ins. Simple apprehension is an operation of mind different from 
all those we have mentioned. Whatever we perceive, whatever we 
remember, whatever we are conscious of, we have a full persuasion or 
conviction of its existence. But we may conceive or imagine what 
has no existence, and what we firmly believe to have no existence. 
What never had an existence cannot be remembered ; what has no 
existence at present cannot be the object of perception or of con- 
sciousness ; but that which never had existence, or that which has no 
existen "o, may be conceived. Every man knows, that it is as easy 
to conceive a winged horse, or a centaur, as it is to conceive a horse, 
or a man 

Carol. Let it be observed, therefore, that to conceive, to imagine, 
to (ippreliend, when taken in the proper sense, signify an act of the 
mind which implies no belief or judgment at all. It is an act of the 
mind by which nothing is afiirmed or denied, and which therefore 
can be neither true nor false. 



UHAl*. Terms defined and e?cplained. 23 

2G. When these words are used, as above, to express sim- 
ple apprehension, they are followed by a noun in the accu- 
sative or ohjectivs case, wlilch signifies the object conceived ; 
as, I conceive an Egyptian pyramid. This implies no judg- 
ment. 

27. But there is another and a very different meaning of 
those words, so common and so well authorized in language, 
that it cannot easily be avoided ; and, on that account, we 

^ ought to be the more on our guard, that we be not misled by 
the ambiguity. 

1,'lus. Politeness and good-breeding lead men, on most occasions, 
to express their opinions with modesty, especially when they differ 
from others whom they respect. Therefore, when a man would ex- 
press his opinion modestly, instead of saying, '^his is my opinion," 
or, ^^ This is my judgment," which has the air of dogmaticainess, he 
says, -^ I conceive it to be thus, I imagine, or I apprehend, it to be 
thus," which is understood as a modest judgment. In like manner, 
when any thing is said which we take to be impossible, we say, '^ We 
cannot conceive how it could be," thereby intimating, that we can- 
not believe it. 

28. But when the words conceive, imagine, or appreJund, 
are used to express opinion or judgment, they are common- 
ly followed by a verb in the infinitive mood ; as, I conceive 
the Egyptian pyramids to he the most ancient monuments of 
human art. 

lllus. Th;s implies judgment. When the words are used in this 
last sense, the thing conceived must be a proposition, because judg- 
ment cannot be expressed but by a proposition. When they are 
used in the first sense (26.), the thing conceived may be no propo- 
sition; but a simple term only; as a pyramid, an obelisk. Yet even 
a proposition may be simply apprehended, without forming any 
judgment of its truth or falsehood ; for it is one thing to conceive the 
meaning of a proposition ; it is another thing to judge it to be true or 
false. 

29. Most of the operations of mind, from their very na- 
ture, must have ^ibjects to which they are directed, and 
about v>7hich they are employed He that perceives must 
perceive something ; and that which he perceives is called 
the object of Ms perception. 

Corel. It is, therefore, impossible to perceive without having some 
object of perception. The mind that perceives, the object perceived, 
and the operation of perceiving that object, are distinct things, and are 
distinguished in the structure of all languages. 

30. In ^his sentence, I sec, or perceive the moon; I is the 
^person or mind: the active verb .sec, denotes the operation of 

ihaX mind; and the 77«<7?? denotes the object. 



24 A Grammar of Logic, book i. 

31. What we have said of perceiving, is equally applica- 
ble to most operations of mind, which are, in all languages, 
expressed by active transitive verbs ; and such verbs require 
an agent and an object. 

Corol. Whence it is evident, that all mankind, both those who 
have contrived language, and those who use it with understanding, 
have distinguished these three things as different ; to wit, the opera- 
t'ons of the mind, which are expressed by active verbs, the miiid itself, 
which is the nominative to those verbs ; and the ohjcct, which is the 
oblique case governed by them. 

32. The word idea, in popular language, signifies precise 
ly the same thing that we commonly express by the active 
participles conceiving or apprehending. 

Illus. 1. Thus, to have an idea of a thing, is to conceive it. To 
have a distinct idea of it, is to conceive it distinctly. To have no idea 
of it, is not to conceive it at all. 

2. Idea, therefore, signifies the same thing q.s co7iception, apprehen- 
sion, notion. 

33. When the word idea is taken in this popular sense, 
no man can possibly doubt whether he has ideas ; for he that 
doubts must think, and to think is to have ideas. 

34. The term idea, coming from the Greek verb idew^ prop- 
erly signifies a thought, representative of such objects as 
have been perceived by the sense of sight. 

Ohs. It is solely owing to the poverty of language that this word 
is also used for the notions which we have of things received by 
means of the other senses ; and, further still, to those primary no- 
tions or elements of abstract thought, which compose trains of ar- 
gument and chains of reasoning, in the mind of the philosopher or 
the statesman. 

35. When, tiierefore, in common language, we speak of 
having an idea of any thing, we mean no more by that ex- 
pression than to conceive of it. 

I (its But as we cannot conceive, or have a notion of any thing, 
without thinking of, it, to constitute an idea implies a mind that 
thinks; an act of the mind which we call thinking; and an object 
about which we think. 

36. The word idea, however, in a philosophical sense, 
means some image, or representative of an external object 
present to the mind. 

Illus. 1. The idea is in the mind itself, and can have no existence 
but in a mind that thinks; but the remote or mediate object may be 
something external, as the sun or moon ; it may be something past or 
^uture ; it maybe something which never existed; and w^e may ob» 
serve that this meaning is built upon a philosophical opinion. 

2. For, if philosopher? had not believed that there are such im- 



OHAP. I. Terms defined and explained. 25 

mediate objects of all our thoughts in the mind, they would never 
have used the word idea to e-x press them. 

3. But the term idea, taken in this sense, is to be considered a mere 
fiction of philosophers ; and use, the arbiter of language, hath nov/ 
in all popular discussions, authorized as synonyma the words thought, 
n-otioriy apprehension , and idea. 

37. When a figure is stamped upon a body by pressure, 
that figure is called an impression, as the impression of a 
seal on wax, or of printing-types, or of a copper-plate, on 
paper. This seems now to be the literal sense of the word ; 
the effect borrowing its name from the cause. 

Obs. But by metaphor or analogy, like most other words, its mean- 
ing is extended to signify any change produced in a body by the 
operation of some externa] cause. A blow of the hand makes no 
impression on a stone wall : but a battery of cannon may. The 
moon raises a tide in the ocean, but makes no perceptible impression 
on rivers and lakes. 

38. When we speak of making an impression on the 
mind, the word is carried still farther from its literal mean- 
ing ; use, however, which, as we have observed above, is the 
arbiter of language, authorizes this application of it ; as 
when we say that admonition and reproof make little im- 
pression on those who are confirmed in bad habits. The 
same discourse delivered in one way makes a strong impres- 
sion on the hearers ; delivered in another way, it makes no 
impression at all. 

lilus. 1. Now, in such examples, an impression made on the mind 
always implies some change of purpose or will ; some new habit 
produced, or some former habit weakened ; some passion raised or 
allayed. When such changes are produced by persuasion, exam- 
ple, or any external cause, we say that such causes make an im- 
vression upon the mind. But when things are seen, or heard, or ap- 
prehended, without producing any passion, or emotion, we say that 
they make no impression. 

2. In the most extensive sense, an impression is a change produced 
in some passive subject by the operation of an external cause. If 
we suppose an active being to produce any change in itself by its 
own active power, this is never called an impression. It is the act or 
operation of the being itself, not an impression upon it. From this 
it appears, that to give the name of an impression to any effect pro- 
duced in the mind, is to suppose that the mind does not act at all in 
the production of that effect. 

3. If seeing, .hearing, desiring, willing, be operations of the mind, 
they cannot be impressions. If they be impressions, they cannot be 
operations of the mind. In the structure of all languages, they are 
considered as acts or operations of the mind itself, and the names 
given them imply this. To call them impressions, therefore, is to 
tres})ass against the rstructure, not of a particular language only, but 
of all languages 



26 A Grammar of Logic, boor i. 

Corol. The term impression, consequently, in the department of 
logic and mental science, merely denotes whatever produces that 
change in the mind which is necessary to perceive an object, or to 
form a thought. 

39. Sensation is a name given by philosophers to an act of 
mind which may be distinguished from all others by this, 
that it hath no object distinct from the object itself 

Illvs. Pain of every kind is an uneasy sensation. When I am 
pained, I cannot say, that the pain I feel is que thing, ^nd that my 
feeling it is another thing. They are one and the same thing, and 
cannot be disjoined even in imagination. Pain, when it is not felt, 
has no existence. It can be neither greater nor less in degree, or 
duration, nor any thing else in kind, that it is felt to be. It cannot 
exist by itself, nor in any subject, but in a sentient being. No qual- 
ity of any inanimate and insentient being can have the least resem- 
blance to it. 

40. What we have said of pain may be applied to every 
other sensation ; some of them are agreeable, others uneasy, 
in various degrees. 

Ohs. These, being objects of desire or aversion, have some atten- 
tion given to them; but many are indifferent, and so little attended 
to, that they have no name in any language. 

41. Most operations of the mind, that have names in com- 
mon language, are complex in their nature, and made up of 
various ingredients, or more simple acts ; which, though 
conjoined in our constitutions, must be disjoined by abstrac- 
tion, in order to our having a distinct and scientific notion 
of the complex operation. In such operations, sensation, for 
the most part, makes an ingredient. Those who do not at- 
tend to the complex nature of such operations, are apt to re- 
solve them into some one of the simple acts of which they 
are compounded, overlooking others. 

Ohs. Nothing, therefore, is of so much importance as to have a 
distinct notion of that simple act of the mind which we call sensa- 
tion, without puzzling ourselves about the particular nature of the 
change effected in the organ, in the nerves, or in the brain, by the 
secondary qualities of matter, in the process which constitutes sen- 
sation, and of which we can have no clearer knowledge than if we 
ourselves were not the subjects of that mysterious operation. 

42. The v/ord feeling hath two meanings. 

First, It signifies the perceptions which we have of ex- 
ternal objects, by the sense of touch. When we speak of 
feeling a body to be hard or soft, rough or smooth, hot or 
cold ; to feel these things, is to perceive them by touch. ^ 

Secondly^ The word feeling is used to signify the same ' 
thing as sensation^ which we have just explained ; and in 



CHAP. II. Principles taken for granted. 27 

this sense, it has no object ; the feeling and the thing felt, 
are one and the same. 

Ohs. Perhaps betwixt feeling, taken in this last sense, and sensa- 
tion, there may be >his small difference, that sensation is most com- 
monly used to signify those feelings which we have by our external 
senses and bodily appetites, and all our bodily pains and pleasures. 
But there are feelings of a nobler nature accompanying our affections, 
our moral judgments, and our determinations in matters of taste, to 
which the word sensation is less properly applied. 

JYote. Other words# that need explication, shall be explained as 
they occur. 



CHAPTER IL 

PRINCIPLES TAKEN FOR GRANTED. 

43. A GENERAL rule, when applied to regulate particu- 
lars, is termed a principle ; and explanations or injunctions 
from principle are termed theory^ or system. The particu- 
lars to be explained are termed phenomena. 

Ohs. As there are words common to philosophers and to the un- 
learned, which need no explication ; so there are principles common 
to both, which need no proof, and which do not admit of direct proof. 

44. Such principles, when we have occasion to use them 
in science, are called axioms. 

Illus. Thus, mathematicians, before they attempt to prove any 
proposition in mathematics, lay down certain axioms or common prin- 
ciples, upon which they build their reasonings. And although those 
axioms be truths which every man knew before ) such as, ^^ That the 
whole is greater than a part" — '• that equal quantities added to equal 
quantities make equal sums;" yet, when we see nothing assumed in 
the proof of mathematical propositions, but such self-evident axioms. 
the propositions appear more certain, and leave no room for doubt or 
dispute, 

45. In every other science, as well as in mathematics, it 
will be found that there are a few common principles, upon 
which all the reasonings in that science are grounded, and 
mto which they may be resolved. If these principles were 
pointed out and explained, we should be better able to judge 
what stress may be laid upon the conclusions in that science. 
If the principles be certain, the conclusions justly drawn 
from them must be certain. If the principles ^^o only prob- 
able, the conclusions can only be probable. If the princi- 



28 A Grammar of Logic. book i 

pies be false, dubious, or obscure, the superstructure that is 
buih upon them must partake of the weakness of the foun- 
dation. 

l-'vs. Thus, Sir Isaac Newton, by laying down the common prin- 
ciples or axioms, on which the reasonings in natural philosophy are 
built, laid a solid foundation in that science, and reared on it a noble 
superstructure, about which there is no more dispute or controversy 
among men of knowledge, than there is about the conclusions of 
mathematics. Yet are the first principles of natural philosophy of a 
nature quite different from mathematical axioins. They have not the 
same kind of evidence, nor are they necessary truths, as mathematical 
axioms are. They are such as these — •• that similar effects proceed 
from the same or similar causes ; that we ought to admit of no other 
causes of natural effects, but such as are true, and sufficient to account 
for the effects." These are principles, which, though they have not 
the same kind of evidence that mathematical axioms have; yet have 
such evidence, that every man of common understanding readily as- 
sents to them, and finds it absolutely necessary to conduct his actions 
and opinions by them, in the ordinary affairs of life. 

46. In like manner, there are some things which we 
shall take for granted, as first principles in treating of the 
mind and its faculties ; or of a rational and useful logic. 

47. The evidence of first principles is not demonstrative, 
but intuitive. They require not proof, but to be placed in a 
proper point of view. 

48. First, then, we shall take it for granted, that man 
thinks, remembers, reasons, and, in general, that he really 
performs all those operations of mind, of which he is con- 
scious. 

Illn&\ The operations of our minds are attended with conscious 
ness ', and this consciousness is the evidence, the only evidence 
which we have, or can have, of their existence. Every man finds 
himself under a necessity of believing what consciousness testifies, 
and every thing that hath this testimony is to be taken as a first prin- 
ciple. 

49. As by consciousness we know certainly the existence 
of our present thoughts and passions ; so we know the past 
by remembrance. And when they are recent, and the re- 
membrance of them fresh, the knowledge of them, from such 
distinct remembrance, is, in its certainty and evidence, next 
to that of consciousness. 

50. When we make our own thoughts and passions, and 
the various operations of our minds, the objects of our atten- 
tion, either while they are present, or when they are recent 
and fresh in oar memory, this act of the mind is called re- 
Jlection 



citAP. II. Principles taken for granted, 29 

Carol. We take it for granted, therefore, that by attentive reflec- 
t'on, a man xndij have a clear and certain knowledge of the operations 
of his own mind ; a knowledge no less clear and certain, than that 
(vhich he has of an external object when it is set before his eyes. 

51. This refiection is a kind of intuition ; it gives a like 
conviction with regard to internal objects, or things in the 
mind, as the faculty of seeing gives with regard to the objects 
of sight. 

Corol. A man must, therefore, be convinced, beyond the possibility 
of doubt, of every thing with regard to the operations of his own 
mind, which he clearly and distinctly discerns by attentive reflection. 

52. We shall take it for granted, that all the thoughts 
which a man is conscious of, or remembers, are the thoughts 
of one and the same thinking principle, which he calls him- 
self, or his mind. 

Illus. 1. Every man has an immediate and irresistible conviction, 
not only of his present existence, but of his continued existence and 
identity as far back as he can remember. 

2. Every man of a sound mind feels himself under a necessity of 
believing his own identity and continued existence. The conviction 
of this is immediate and irresistible ; and if he should lose this con- . 
viction, it would be a certain proof of insanity, which is not to be rem- 
edied by reasoning. 

53. We shall take it for granted, that there are some 
things which cannot exist by themselves, but must be in 
something else to which they belong, as qualities, or attri- 
butes. 

Ilhis. Thus, motion cannot exist but in something that is moved. 
For to suppose that there can be motion while every thing is at rest, 
is a gross and palpable absurdity. In like manner, hardness and soft- 
ness, sweetness and bitterness, are things which cannot exist by 
themselves. They are qualities of some thing which is hard or soft, 
sweet or bitter. That thing, whatever it be, of which they are quali- 
ties, is called their subject, and such qualities necessarily suppose a 
subject. 

54. Things which may exist by themselves, and which 
do not suppose the existence of any thing else, are called 
substances ; and with relation to the qualities or attributes 
that belong to them, they are called the subjects of such 
qualities or attributes. And, in respect to material objects, 
we give the name of body to that which is the subject of 
these qualities or attributes. 

55. In like manner, those operations of which a man is 
conscious, such as thought, reasoning, desire, necessarily 
suppose something that thinks, reasons, and desires. We 
do not give the name of mind to thought, reason, or desire^ 

2 



30 A Grammar of Logic, book i. 

but to that hdno' which thmks, which reasons, and which 
desires. 

^Q. That e vSjy act, or operation, therefore, supposes an 
agent, that every quality supposes a subject, are things which 
we do not attempt to prove, but take for granted. Every 
man of common understanding discerns this immediately, 
and cannot entertain the least doubt of it. 

57. In all languages, we find certain words which, by 
grammarians, are called adjectives. Such words denote 
attributes ; and every adjective must have a substantive to 
which it belongs, because every attribute must have a sub- 
ject. 

58. In all languages, we find active verbs, which denote 
some action or operation ; and it is a fundamental rule in 
the grammar of all languages, that such a verb supposes a 
person ; that is, in other words, every action must have an 
agent. 

Corol. We take it, therefore, as a first principle, that goodness, 
wisdom, and virtue, can only be in some being that is good, wise, and 
virtuous ; that thinking supposes a being that thinks, and that every 
operation of which we are conscious supposes an agent that operates, 
which we call mind. 

59. We take it for granted, that in most operations of the 
mind, there must be an object distinct from the operation 
itself 

nius. 1. I cannot see^ without seeing something. To see without 
having an object of sight is absurd. I cannot remember, without re- 
membering something. The thing remembered is past, while the re- 
membrance of it is present ; and therefore the operation and the ob- 
ject of it must be distinct things. 

2, I remember the comet of 1811. Here the act of remembering 
is present, but the comet, which is the object of this act, is absent; 
whence the operation and the object of that operation are distinct 
things. 

60. We ought likewise to take for granted, as first prin- 
ciples, things wherein we find an universal agreement among 
the learned and unlearned, in the different ages of the 
world. 

Obs. A consent of ages and nations, of the learned and unlearned, 
ought, at least, to have great authority, unless we can show some 
prejudice, as universal as that consent is, which might be its cause. 
Truth is one, but error is infinite. 

Corol. An universal consent in things gives the greatest presump- 
tion that can be, that such a consent is the natural result of the human 
faculties, and must have great authority with every sober mind that 
loves truth. 



CHAP. II. Principles taken for granted. 31 

61. Though it may be impossible to collect the opinions 
of all men upon all points, there are many cases in which it 
IS otherwise ; so that the foregoing postulate will still hold 
good. 

Ohs. Who can doubt, for instance, whether mankind have, in all 
ages, believed the existence of a material world, and that those 
things which we see and handle are real, and not mere illusions and 
apparitions ? Who can doubt whether mankind have universally 
believed that every thing that begins to exist, must have a cause ? 
Who can doubt, whether mankind have been universally persuaded 
that there is a right and a wrong in human conduct ? some things, 
which, in certain circumstances, they ought to do, and other things 
which they ought not to do ? 

CoroL The universality of these opinions, and of many such that 
might be named, is sufficiently evident, from the whole tenor of 
men's conduct, as far as our acquaintance reaches, and from the 
records of historians of all nations, transmitted to us from the re- 
motest ages. 

62. There are other opinions that appear to be univer- 
sal, from what is common in the structure of all languages, 
ancient and modern, polished and barbarous. Language is 
the express image and picture of human thoughts ; and from 
the picture we may often draw certain conclusions with re- 
gard to the original. 

Illus. 1. We find in all languages the same parts of speech, noun, 
substantive and adjective; verbs active and passive, varied according 
to the tenses of past, present and future ; we find adverbs, prepo- 
sitions, and conjunctions. There are general rules of syntax common 
to all languages. This uniformity in the structure of language, 
shows a certain degree of uniformity in those notions upon which the 
structure of language is founded. 

2. We find in the structure of all languages, the distinction of 
acting and being acted upon, the distinction of action and agent, of 
quality and subject, and many others of the like kind ; which 
shows t?iat these distinctions are founded in the universal sense of 
mankind. 

Corol. There are many occasions on which it is necessary to a.r- 
gue from the sense of mankind expressed in the structure of language ; 
and therefore it was proper at the threshold to take notice of the 
force of arguments drawn from this topic. 

63. We shall also take for granted, as first principles, 
such facts as are attested to the conviction of all sober men, 
either by their senses, by memory, or by human testimony. 

Obs. 1. For, though skepticism may endeavor to discredit the 
testimony of the senses, we never heard of any skeptic who struck 
his head against a post, or stepped into a kennel because he did not 
believe his eyes. 

2. Let us, however, be cautious, that we do not adopt opinioiis 



32 A Ch^ammar of Logic. book i. 

as first principles, which are not entitled to that character. Let us 
deal with every thing offered as a first principle, as an upright 
judge does wit^h a witness who has a fair character. He pays a re- 
gard to the testimony of such witness, while his character is unim- 
peached ; but if it can be shown that he is suborned, or that he is in- 
fluenced by malice or partial favor, his testimony loses all credit, and 
IS justly rejected. 



CHAPTER III. 

OF HYPOTHESES. 

64. Every branch of human knowledge hath its proper 
principles, its proper foundation and method of reasoning; 
and if we endeavor to build upon any other foundation, the 
fabric we raise will never stand firm. 

lllus. 1. Thus, the historian builds upon testimony; and rarely 
indulges conjecture. 

2. The antiquary mixes conjecture with testimony; and the for- 
mer often makes the larger ingredient. 

3. The mathematician pays not the least regard either to testi- 
mony or conjecture, but deduces every thing, by demonstrative rea- 
soning, from his definitions and axioms. 

Corol. Whatever, therefore, is built upon conjecture, is improp- 
erly called science; for though conjecture may beget opinion, it 
cannot produce knowledge. Natural philosophy must be built upon 
the laws of the material system, discovered by observation and ex- 
periment. 

QS. When men began to philosophize, or to carry their 
thoughts beyond the objects of sense, and to inquire into 
the causes of things, their ignorance of a scientific way of 
proceeding in such philosophical disquisitions, gave birth to 
conjecture. 

nUis. Accordingly we find that the most ancient systems, in eve- 
ry branch of philosophy, were nothing but the conjectures of men 
famous for their wisdom, whose fame gave authority to their opin- 
ions. 

Example. Thus, in early ages, wise men conjectured that the 
earth was a vast plain, surrounded on all sides by a boundless 
ocean; that from this ocean, the sun, moon, and stars, emerged at 
their rising, and plunged into it again at their setting. 

QQ. With regard to the mind, men in their rudest state 
are apt to conjecture that the principle of life in man is his 
breath ; because the most obvious distinction between a liv' 



CHAP. III. Of Hypotheses, 38 

ing and a dead man is, that the one breathes, and the other 
does not. 

Ohs. To this it is owing that, in ancient languages, the word 
which denotes the soul, is that which properly signifies hreath, or air. 

67. As men advance m knowledge, their first conjectures 
appear silly and childish, and give place to others which 
agree better with later observations and discoveries. Thus, 
one system of philosophy succeeds another, without any 
claim to superior merit, but this, that it is a more ingenious 
system of conjectures, and accounts better for common ap- 
pearances. 

Illus. Des Cartes thus conjectured, that the heavenly bodies are 
carried round by a vortex or whirlpool of subtile matter, just as straws 
and chaff are carried round in a tub of water. He conjectured also, 
that the soul is seated in a small gland in the brain, called the pineal 
gland ; that there, as in her presence chamber, she receives intelli- 
gence of every thing that affects the senses, by means of a subtile fluid 
contained in the nerves, and called animal spirits ; and that she de- 
spatches these animal spirits as her messengers, to put in motion the 
several muscles of the body, as there is occasion. By such conjectures 
as these, Des Cartes could account for every phenomenon in nature, 
in such a plausible manner as gave satisfaction to a great part of the 
learned world for more than half a century. 

68. Such conjectures, in philosophical matters, have 
commonly received the name of hypotheses, or theories, 

Ohs. 1. And the invention of any hypothesis which, founded on 
some slight probabilities, accounts for many appearances of nature, 
has been considered as the highest attainment of a philosophy. If 
the hypothesis hangs well together, is embellished by a lively imagi- 
nation, and serves to account for common appearances, it is considered 
by many as having all the qualities that should recommend it to our 
belief ; and all that ought to be required in a philosophical system. 

2. There is such proneness in men of genius to invent hypotheses, 
and in others to acquiesce in them, as the utmost that the human fac- 
ulties can attain in philosophy , that it is of the last consequence to the 
progress of real knowledge, that men should have a clear and distinct 
understanding of the nature of hypotheses in philosophy, and of the 
regard that is due to them. 

69. Although some conjectures may have a considerable 
degree of probability, yet it is evidently in the nature of 
conjecture to be uncertain. In every case, the assent ought 
to be proportioned to the evidence ; for to believe firmly 
what has but a small degree of probability, is a manifest 
abuse of our understanding. 

Ohs. If a child were to conjecture how an army is to be formed in 

2* 



34 A Grammar of Logic, book i. 

the day of battle; how a city is to be fortified, or a state governed; 
what chance has he to guess right ? As little chance would a thousand 
of the greatest wits whom the world ever produced, have, without any 
previous knowledge in anatomy, to contrive how and by what internal 
organs the various functions of the human body are carried on ; how 
the blood is made to circulate, and the limbs to move. 

70. Of all the discoveries that have been made concern- 
ing the inward structure of the human body, never one vras 
made by conjecture. 

Illus. Accurate observations of anatomists have brought to light in- 
numerable artifices of nature in the contrivance of this machine of the 
human body, which we cannot but admire as excellently adapted to 
their several purposes. But the most sagacious physiologist never 
dreamed of them till they were discovered. On the other hand, innu- 
merable conjectures, formed in different ages, with regard to the 
structure of the body, have been confuted by observation, and none 
ever confirmed. 

71. What v^^e have said of the internal structure of the 
human body, may be said, w^ith justice, of every other part 
of the vrorks of God, vi^herein any real discovery has been 
made. 

Obs. Such discoveries have always been made by patient observa- 
tion, by accurate experiments, or by conclusions drawn by strict rea- 
soning from observations and experiments j and such discoveries have 
always tended to refute, but not to confirm, the theories and hypothe- 
ses which ingenious men had invented. 

Rlus. 1 . The finest productions of human art are immensely short 
of the meanest productions of nature. The nicest plumasier cannot 
make a feather. Nor could any society of chemists and meteorologists 
cover the hills with mists, and the face of the sky with clouds. Hu- 
man workmanship will never bear a comparison with the workman- 
ship of nature. 

2. The Indian philosopher, being at a loss to know how the earth 
w^as supported, invented the hypothesis of a huge elephant, on 
whose back it rested ; and the elephant he supposed to stand on a 
huge tortoise. This hypothesis, how ridiculous soever it appears to us, 
might seem very reasonable to other Indians, who knew no more of 
it than the inventor, and never inquired, What did the tortoise 
stand on ? 

72. Let us, therefore, lay down this as a fundamental 
principle in our inquiries into the structure of the mind, and 
its operations, that no regard is due to the conjectures or hy- 
potheses of philosophers, how ancient soever, however gen- 
erally received. Let us accustom ourselves to try every 
opinion by the touchstone of fact and experience. What 
can fairly be deduced from facts duly observed, or sufficjentr 



CHAP. IV. Of Analogy. 80 

iy attested, is genuine and pure ; it is the voice of Nature, 
and no fiction of human imagination. 

73. The first rule of philosophizing laid down by the great 
Newton, is this : — '' No more causes, nor any other causes of 
natural effects, ought to be admitted, but such as are both 
true, and are sufficient for explaining their appearances." 
This is the golden rule ; it is the true and proper test, 
whereby what is sound and solid in philosophy may be dis- 
tinguished from what is hollow and vain. 

Corol. If a philosopher, therefore, pretend to show us the cause of 
any natural effect, whether relating to matter or mind, let us first 
consider whether there be sufiicient evidence that the cause he assigns 
does really exist. If there be not, reject it with disdain, as a fiction 
which ought to have no place in genuine philosophy. If the cause 
assigned really exist, consider, in the next place, whether the effect it 
is brought to explain necessarily follows from it. Unless it have these 
two conditions, it is good for nothing. 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF ANALOGY. 

74. It is natural to men to judge of things less known, by 
some similitude which they observe, or which they think 
they observe, between them and things more familiar or bet- 
ter known. This method of judging is called Analogy ; 
and in many cases we have no better way of judging. And 
where the things compared have really a great similitude in 
their nature, when there is reason to think that they are sub- 
ject to the same laws, there may be considerable degrees of 
probability in conclusions drawn from analogy. 

Illus. Thus we may observe a very great similitude between this 
Earth which we inhabit, and the other planets, Herschel, Saturn, Ju- 
piter, Mars, Venus, and Mercury. They all revolve round the Sun, 
as the Earth does, although at different distances, and in different pe- 
riods of time. They all borrow their light from the Sun, as the Earth 
does. They revolve round their axes like the earth round her axis, 
and, by that means, must have a regular succession of day and night. 
Some of them have moons, which serve to give them light in the ab- 
sence of the Sun, as our Moon does to us. They are all, in their mo- 
tions, subject to the same law of gravitation as the Earth is. From 
all this similitude, it is not unreasonable to think, that those planets 
may, like our Earth, be the habitation of various orders of living crea- 
tures ; nay, of sentient natures. There is some probability in thw 
conclusion from analogy. 



36 A Grammar of Logic, book i 

75. Ill medicine, physicians must, for the most part, be 
directed in their prescriptions by analogy. 

Elus. The constitution of one human body is so Hke to that of 
another, that it is reasonable to think, that what is the cause of 
health or sickness to one, may have the same effect upon another. 
And this is generally found true, though not without some excep- 
tions. 

76. In politics we reason, for the most part, from analogy. 
The constitution of human nature is similar in different so- 
cieties, or commonwealths ; hence we conclude, that the 
causes of peace and war, of tranquillity and sedition, of rich- 
es and poverty, of improvement and degeneracy, are much 
the same in all. 

Corol. Analogical reasoning, therefore, is not, in all cases, to be re- 
jected. It may afford a greater or a less degree of probability , according 
as the things compared are more or less similar in their nature. But 
it ought to be observed, that, as this kind of reasoning can afford only 
probable evidence, at best, so, unless great caution be used, we are 
apt to be led into error by it. For we are naturally disposed to con- 
ceive a greater similitude between things than there really is. 

77. To give an instance of this. Anatomists, in ancient 
times, seldom dissected human bodies ; but very often the 
bodies of those quadrupeds whose internal structure was 
thought to approach nearest to that of the human body. 
Modern anatomists, by the actual dissection of human bodies, 
have discovered many mistakes into which the ancients were 
led, by their conceiving a greater similitude between the 
structure of men and of some beast, than there is in reality. 

Corol- By this, and many other instances that might be given, it ap- 
pears that conclusions built on analogy stand on a slippery founda- 
tion ; and that we ougiit never to rest upon evidence of this kind^ 
when we can have more direct proof. 

78. We form an early acquaintance, by means of our 
senses, with material things, and are bred up in a constant 
familiarity with them. Hence we are apt to measure all 
things by them ; and to ascribe to things most remote from 
matter, the qualities that belong to material things. 

Corol. It is for this reason that mankind have, in all ages, been so 
prone to conceive the mind itself to be some subtile kind of matter ; 
that they have been disposed to ascribe human figure and human or- 
gans not only to angels, but even to the Deity 1 

79. We are conscious of the operations of our own minds, 
when they are exerted ; we are even capable of attending to 
them, so as to form a distinct notion of them, but this is so 



CHAP. IV. Of Analogy. 37 

difficult a work to men, whose attention is constantly solicit- 
ed by external objects, that we give them names from things 
that are familiar, and which are conceived to have some 
similitude to those operations ; and the notions we form of 
them are no less analogical than the names we give them. 

80. Almost all the words, by which we express the ope- 
rations of the mind, are borrowed from material objects. 

Illus. To understand, to conceive, to imagine, to comprehend, to de- 
liberate, to infer, and many other words, are of this kind ; so that 
the very language of mankind, with regard to the operations of the 
mind, is analogical. 

81. Because bodies are affected only by contact and pres- 
sure, we are apt to conceive that what is an immediate object 
of thought, and affects the mind, must be in contact with it, 
and make some impression on it. 

82. When we imagine any thing, the very word leads us 
to think that there must be some image in the mind of the 
thing conceived. 

Coral. It is evident that these notions are drawn from some simili- 
tude conceived between body and mind, and between the proper- 
ties of body and the operations of mind. 

83. When a man is urged by contrary motives, those on 
one hand inciting him to do some action, those on the other 
to forbear it, he deliberates about it, and at last resolves to 
do it, or not to do it. The contrary motives are here com- 
pared to weights in the opposite scales of a balance ; and 
there is not, perhaps, any instance that can be named of a 
more striking analogy between body and mind. 

Corol. Hence the phrases weighing motives, deliberating upon ac- 
tions, and the like, are common to all languages. 

84. From this analogy, some philosophers draw very im- 
portant conclusions. They say, that as the balance cannot 
incline to one side more than the other, when the opposite 
weights are equal, so a man cannot possibly determine him- 
self, if the motives on both hands are equal ; and as the bal- 
ance must necessarily turn to that side which has most 
weight, so the will of the man must necessarily be deter- 
mined to that hand where the motive is strongest. 

Obs. And on this foundation, some of the schoolmen maintained, 
that if a hungry ass be placed between two bundles of hay, equally 
inviting, the beast must stand still and starve to death, being unable 
to turn to either, because the unfortunate animal has equal motives 
to both the bundles. 

85. This is an instance of that analogical reasoning which 



38 A Grammar of Logic. book i. 

Dr. Reid conceives ought never to be trusted ; for the anal- 
ogy between a balance and a man deliberating, though one 
of the strongest that can be found between matter and 
mind, is too weak to support any argument. A piece of 
dead, inactive matter, and an active and intelligent being, 
are things very unlike ; and because the one would remain 
at rest in a certain case, it does not follow that the other 
would be inactive in a case somewhat similar. 

Illus. The argument is no better than this, that, because a dead 
animal moves only as it is pushed, and, if pushed with equal force 
in contrary directions, must remain at rest, therefore the same 
thing must happen to a living animal ; for surely the similitude be- 
tween a dead animal and a living, is as great as between a balance 
and a man. 

CoroL The conclusion which results from all that has been said on 
analogy, is, that, in our inquiries concerning the mind and its ope- 
rations, we ought never to trust to reasonings drawn from some sup- 
posed similitude of body to mind ; and that we ought to be very much 
upon our guard, that we be not imposed upon by those analogical 
terms and phrases by which the operations of the mind are expressed 
in all languages. 



CHAPTER V. 

OF THE PROPER MEANS OF KNOWING THE OPERATIONS 
OF OUR OWN MINDS. 

86. Since we ought to pay no regard to hypotheses, and 
to be very suspicious of analogical reasoning, it may be 
asked, from what sources must the knowledge of the mind, 
and its faculties, be drawn 1 I answer, from the three fol- 
lowing, l^hejirst is attention to the structure of language ; 
because the language of mankind is expressive of their 
thoughts, and of the various operations of their minds. 

Illus. 1. Those operations which are common to mankind, have 
various forms of speech corresponding to them in all languages. 
These various forms of speech are the signs of the various opera- 
tions of the understanding, will, and passions ; and by those signs 
these operations are expressed. A due attention, therefore, to the 
signs, may, in many cases, give considerable light to the things 
signified by them. 

2. But languages, from their imperfections, can never be adequate 
to all the varieties of human thought. There may, therefore, be 
things really distinct in their nature, and capable of being distin- 
guished by the human mind^ which are not distinguished in common 



CHAP. V. On knowing the Operations of our Mina. 39 

language. There may also be peculiarities in a particular language, 
of the causes of which we are ignorant, and from which, therefore, 
we can draw no conclusion. But whatever we find common to all 
languages, must have a common cause ; must be owing to some 
common notion or sentiment of the human mind. 

87. The second source of information on this subject, is a 
due attention to the course of human actions and conduct. 
Th^' actions of men are effects ; their sentiments, their pas- 
sions, and their affections, are the causes of those effects ; 
and we may, in many cases, form a judgment of the cause, 
by observing the effect. 

Illus. 1. Thus, the behavior of parents towards their children gives 
sufficient evidence, even to those who never had children, that the 
parental affection is common to mankind. The general conduct of 
men, too, shows us what are the natural objects of their esteem, 
their admiration, their love, their approbation, their resentment, and of 
all their original dispositions. From the conduct of men in all ages, 
it is likewise obvious, that man is, by his nature, a social animal ; 
that he delights to associate with his species ; to converse, and to 
exchange good offices with them. 

2. Not only the actions, but even the opinions of mankind, may 
sometimes give light into the frame of the human mind. The opin- 
ions of men may be considered as the effects of their intellectual 
powers, as their actions are the effects of their active principles. 
Even the prejudices and errors of mankind, when they are general, 
must have some cause no less general ; the discovery of which will 
throw some light upon the frame of the human understanding. 

88. The third, and main source of information, respect- 
ing the mind and its faculties, is accurate and attentive 
reflection upon the operations of our own mind. The 
power of the understanding to take notice of its own ope- 
rations, to attend to them, and examine them on all sides, is 
the power of reflection ; and all the notions we have of 
mind, and of its operations, have been called ideas of re- 
flection. 

Illus. 1. The term reflection implies nothing more than the de- 
liberate and mature exercise of consciousness. But to acquire a 
habit of reflection upon the powers of our own minds, or of the de- 
liberate exercise of consciousness, is a work of time and labor, 
even to those who begin early, and whose natural talents are tolera- 
bly fitted for it. This is the last of the powers of the mind that 
unfolds itself; and though many persons seem incapable of acquiring 
it in any considerable degree, it may be greatly improved by exer- 
cise. It is by the proper employment of this power that men be- 
come fitted to discover the laws by which their own thoughts are 
regulated, and to make advances in the science of intellectual phi- 
losophy. 

2. When two persons are speaking to us at once, we can attend 
to either of them at pleasure, without being much disturbed by the 



40 A Grammar of Logic, book i. 

other. If we attempt to listen to both, we can understand neither. 
The fact seems to be, that when we attend constantly to one of the 
speakers, the words spoken by the other make no impression on the 
mind, in consequence of our not attending to them ; and affect us as 
little as if they had not been uttered. This power, however, of the 
mind, to attend to either speaker at pleasure, supposes that it is, at 
one and the same time, conscious of the sensations which both 
produce. And the power of reflection, in hke manner, turns the 
mind inward, to view and observe its own actions and operations ; 
but art and pains are requisite to set it at a distance, as it were, from 
itself, and make it an object of its own scrutiny. Yet art and pains 
will daily diminish this difficulty, and thereby enable us to think 
with precision and accuracy on many important subjects, wherein 
others must blindly follow a leader. 



CHAPTER VI. 

OF THE DIFFICULTY OF ATTENDING TO THE OPERATIONS 
OF OUR OWN MINDS, INTERSPERSED WITH OBSERVA- 
TIONS WHICH MAY ASSIST US IN OVERCOMING THIS 
DIFFICULTY. 

89. The difficulty of attending to our mental operations 
ought to be well understood, and justly estimated, by those 
who would make any progress in the art of logic ; that they 
may neither, on the one hand, expect success without labor 
and application of thought, nor, on the other, be discour- 
aged, by conceiving that the obstacles which lie in the way 
are insuperable, and that there is no certainty to be attained 
in the science of intellectual philosophy. 

Ohs. The following development of the causes of this difficulty, 
and the effects which have arisen from it, will enable us to form a 
true judgment of these causes and effects. 

90. The number and quick succession of the operations 
of the mind make it .difficult to give due attention to them. 
It is well known, that if a number of objects be presented 
even to the eye (in quick succession) they are confounded 
in the mind and imagination. We retain a confused notion 
of the whole, and a more confused one of the several parts, 
especially if they are objects to which we have never before 
given particular attention. No succession can be more 
quick than that of thought. The mind is busy while we are 
awake, continually passing from one thought and one ope- 
ration to another. The scene is constantly shifting. You 



CHAP. VI. Attention to our Mental Operations. 41 

will be instantly sensible of this, if you try but for one min- 
ute to keep the same thought in your imagination without 
addition or variation. 

Illus. Think, for illustration, on Daniel cast into the lions' den ; 
and you will find it impossible to keep the scene of your imagina- 
tion fixed. Other objects will intrude without being called : the 
machinations of his enemies to get a royal statute established, that 
whosoever should ask a petition of any god or man for thirty days, 
save of king Darius, should be cast into the den of lions — the immu- 
tability of the laws of the Medes and Persians — the king's command 
— the remarkable presentiment of Darius, that the God whom Dan- 
iel served would deliver him — the king's disquietude over night — 
his going early to the den on the following morning, and crying 
with a lamentable voice, O Daniel, servant of the living God, is thy 
God, whom thou servest continually, able to deliver thee from the 
lions? — the reply of Daniel, '' My God hath sent his angel, and hath 
shut the lions' mouths, that they have not hurt me " — the reason of 
this, ^' forasmuch as before him innocence was found in me" — the ap- 
peal to Darius^ ^^ and also before thee, O king, have I done no hurt " 
— the punishment of the men who accused Daniel — of their wives 
and children — and, finally, the decree of the king, '' that in every do- 
minion of my kingdom men tremble and fear before the God of 
Daniel" — these, all these objects will intrude, without being called ; 
and all you can do is to reject the intruders as quickly as possible, and 
return to the principal object, if you would picture to yourself only 
Daniel shut up in the lions' den. 

91. We proceed in this examination, contrary to habits 
which have been early acquired, and confirmed by long, 
unvaried practice. From infancy we are accustomed to 
attend to objects of sense, and to them only ; and, when 
sensible objects have acquired such strong hold of the at- 
tention by confirmed habit, it is not easy to dispossess them. 
When we grow up, a variety of external objects solicits our 
attention, excites our curiosity, engages our aifections, or 
touches our passions ; and the constant round of employ- 
ment about external objects, draws off the mind from attend- 
ing to itself 

Illus. Yet here much may be done by experience, and nothing will 
contribute so much to form this talent of reflection, as that study 
which has the operations of the mind for its object. By habituating 
lis to reflect on the subjects of our consciousness, it enables us to re- 
tard, in a considerable degree, the current of thought ; to arrest many 
of those ideas, which would otherwise escape our notice ; and to ren- 
der the arguments, which we would employ for the conviction of oth- 
ers, an exact transcript of those trains of inquiry and reasoning, which 
originally led us to form our opinions. 

92. Mental operations, from their very nature, lead the 
mind to give its attention to some other object. Our sensa- 

3 



42 A Grammar of Logic. book i. 

tions are natural signs, and turn our attention to the thing&J 
signified by them. In perception, memory, judgment, im- 
agination, and reasoning, there is an object distinct from the 
mind itself; and, while we are led by a strong impulse to at- 
tend to the object, the operation escapes our notice. Our 
passions, affections, and all our active powers, have, in like 
manner, their objects, which engross our attention, and di- 
vert it from the povv^ers themselves. 

93. When the mind is agitated by any passion, as soon as 
we turn our attention from the object of the passion to the 
passion itself, the passion subsides or vanishes, and by that 
means escapes our inquiry. 

lUus. Thus, when a man is angry, he is conscious of his passion • 
yet he attends not to it, but to an external object ; his attention is 
turned to the person who offended him, and the circumstances of the 
oifence, while the passion of anger is not in the least the object of 
his attention. This, indeed, is common to almost every operation of 
the mind. When it is exerted, we are conscious of it; but then we 
do not attend to the operation, but to its object. When the mind is 
drawn off from the object, to attend to its own. operation, that opera- 
tion ceases, and escapes our notice. 

94. In what relates to the operations of the mind, it is 
not enough that we be able to give attention to them ; we 
must, by exercise and habit, acquire the ability of distin- 
guishing accurately their minute differences, of resolving 
and analyzing complex operations into their simple ingre- 
dients, of unfolding the ambiguity of words, which in this 
science is greater than in any other, and of giving them 
the accuracy and precision of mathematical language. For, 
doubtless, the same precision in the use of words ; the same 
cool attention to the minute differences of things ; the same 
talent for abstraction and analyzing, which fit one for the 
study of mathematics, are no less necessary in the science 
of mind. 



CHAPTER VII. 

DIVISION OF THE POWERS OF THE MIND. 

95. The powers of the human mind, and the science of 
intellectual philosophy, furnish the proper basis upon which 
every other science rests, because the human faculties are 



CHAP, vii, Division of the Powers of the Mind. 43 

the instruments by which alone invention in all the sciences 
can be accomplished. But the powers of the human mind 
are so many and so various, and so connected and compli- 
cated, in almost all its operations, that the most general di- 
vision, which is also the most common of them, into the 
powers of understanding, and those of the will, is perhaps 
the least liable to objection. 

96. The UNDERSTANDING Comprehends our contemplative 
powers, by which we perceive objects, by which we conceive; 
or remember them, by which we analyze or compound them,, 
and by which we judge and reason concerning them. Un- 
der the WILL we arrange our active powers, and all that lead 
to action, or influence the mind to act ; such as appetites, 
passions, affections. 

lllus. 1. Although this general division may be of use in order to 
our proceeding more methodically in our subject, we are not to under- 
stand that, in those operations which are ascribed to the understand- 
ing, there is no exertion of will, or activity, or that the understanding 
is not employed in the operati'ons of the will ; for we conceive that 
there is no operation of the understanding wherein the mind is not 
also active in some degree. 

2. We have some command over our thoughts, and can attend to 
this or to that, of many objects which present themselves to our senses, 
to our memory, to our imagination. We can survey an object on 
this side or that, superficially or accurately, for a longer or a shorter 
time ; so that our contemplative powers are under the guidance and 
direction of the active ; and the former never pursue their object with- 
out being led and directed, urged or restrained, by the latter. And 
because the understanding is always more or less directed by the will, 
mankind have ascribed some degree of activity to the mind in its 
intellectual operations, as well as in those which belong to the will, 
and have expressed them by active verbs, such as seeing^ hearing, 
judging, reasoning, and the like. 

3. And as the mind exerts some degree of activity even in the op- 
erations of understanding, so it is certain, that there can be no act of 
will which is not accompanied with some act of understanding. The 
will must have an object, and that object must be apprehended or con- 
ceived in the understanding. 

Corol. It is therefore to be remembered, that in most, if not all op- 
erations of the mind, both faculties concur ; and we range the op- 
eration under that faculty which we conceive to have the largest 
share in it. 

97. In conducting our analysis of the intellectual powers, 
it is proposed to adopt the following arrangement : — 

I. To treat of consciousness, or that faculty or mode of 
thinking, by which the various powers of our minds are 
made known to us. 

II. Sensation, or the faculty whereby we experience 



44 A Grammar of Logic. book i. 

pleasing or painful effects from various objects, through the 
medium of the senses. 

III. Perception, or the faculty by which we are inform- 
ed of the properties of external objects, in consequence of 
the hnpressions which they make on the organs of sense. 

IV. Attention, or the faculty which detains, for our ex- 
amination, ideas or perceptions in the mind, and excludes 
other objects that solicit its notice. 

V. Conception, or the faculty by which we represent to 
our minds the objects of any other of our faculties variously 
modified. 

VI. Abstraction, or the faculty by which we analyze 
objects of consciousness, sensation, perception, &:.c., and 
contemplate their various properties apart from each other. 

VII. Association, or comhination of ideas, the faculty by 
which we connect together these objects, according to vari- 
ous relations, essential or accidental, so that they are sug- 
gested to us, the one by the other. 

VIII. Memory, or the faculty by which the mind has 
a knowledge of what it had formerly perceived, felt, or 
thought. 

IX. Imagination, or the faculty which makes a selection 
of qualities and circumstances from a variety of diiferent 
objects, and by combining and disposing these, forms new 
creations of its own. 

X. Judgment, or the faculty by which the mind comes to 
determinations concerning the truth or falsehood of any thing 
that is affirmed or denied. 

XI. Reason, or the faculty by which we are made ac- 
quainted with abstract or necessary truth ; and enabled to 
discover the essential relations of things. 

XII. Moral perception, or the faculty which deter- 
mines the choice of a rational being, as to what is good 
for him upon the whole, and what appears to be duty. 



BOOK II. 

OF THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS 
CHAPTER 1 

OF CONSCIOUSNESS 

98. Consciousness, being the faculty whereby the various 
powers of our own minds are made known to us, has been 
already noticed among the first principles which are com- 
mon to all men. (Art. 48.) In an investigation of the prin- 
ciples of human thought, this faculty stands in the first rank. 

lllus. The power of consciousness appears to be denied to the 
lower animals ; nor does it show itself in man till he is advanced to- 
wards maturity. The wants and purposes of life require that we 
should form an intimate acquaintance with those objects of nature 
with which we are externally connected, and which are the chief 
sources of our pleasures and pains. Hence our senses, or perceptive 
powers, come first to maturity ; and those which are purely intellec- 
tual, such as consciousness, are reserved for the more contemplative 
period of life. 

99. To the exercise of consciousness, as we have already 
observed, all men are indebted for the conviction, or notion, 
of personal identity. 

lllus. Every man holds himself to be absolutely certain, that what- 
ever changes, his body may undergo in this life, his soul, or mind, al- 
ways continues one and the same , not liable to that alteration and 
disunion of parts to which all corporeal beings appear to be subject. 
Along with consciousness, however, we must conjoin memory, in or- 
der to give a rational explanation of the origin of this conviction. 
For consciousness reaches only to the present, while memory alone 
gives a knowledge of past thoughts ; and it is by comparing our past 
and present mental operations together, that we form a conviction of 
our personal, or, rather, intellectual identity. 

Corol. 1. The mind or soul of man being indivisible, or not subject 
to a dissolution of parts, and annihilation being unknown in the order 
of nature, it follows, that the soul is physically iimmortal. 

2. The properties of mind having no analogy to those of matter, 
the fact at death is, that the body ceases to be animated, or to give 
signs of the presence of mind; but the mind, being active, indivisible, 
and indissoluble, may exist apart, 
8 * 



46 A Grammar of Lo^ic. book ii. 

3. Hence, every question relating to a future state must be solved 
from the nature of the soul, from the state of the fact at death, or 
from the principles of religion. 

100. The operation of consciousness is accompanied with 
an irresistible belief of the real existence of those objects of 
which it gives us information. 

lllus. The belief which we entertain in the existence of o^ir own 
minds, and of their various faculties, rests upon this evidence alone ; 
and it is by means of it, that we acquire our most accurate knowledge 
of the laws by v/hich these faculties are regulated. Nor 3an the 
belief accompanying consciousness be resolved into any process of 
reasoning, or any other intellectual operation ; for if we are asked, 
why we believe that we have a soul, and that that soul has faculties or 
active powers, which may all be exerted together, or in the least 
measurable portion of time, we shall be unable to give any better 
reason, than that we feel such to be the case ; that is, in more accu- 
rate language, that we are conscious of it. 

101. No man can divine the mysterious union of soul and 
body, but every man feels that his mind is present, in a par- 
ticular manner, to whatever affects his senses ; and, in other 
instances, that it is equally present to the most remote, as to 
the nearest object of thought. 

Corol. Thus we may consider the evidence of consciousness as one 
of those intuitive truths most universally admitted. 



CHAPTER II. 

OF SENSATION. 

102. Sensation has been defined the faculty by which 
we experience pleasing or painful effects from various ob- 
jects, through the medium of the senses. 

Obs. The senses come to maturity even in infancy, when other 
powers have not yet sprung up. They are common to us with brute 
animals, and furnish us with the objects about which our other pow- 
ers are most frequently employed. We find it easy to attend to 
their operations; and because they are familiar, the names which 
properly belong to them are applied to other powers that are 
thought to resemble them : for these reasons they claim our atten- 
tion in an analysis of the faculty of sensation, which naturally de- 
mands to be first considered among the objects of our conscious- 
ness. 

103. The media by which all sensatioi is communicated 
to the mind, are the five senses o^^ seeing smelling, tasting, 
hearing, and touch. 



CHAP. 11. Of Sensation. 47 

104. Of these senses, sight is, without doubt, the noblest. 
The variety of information and of enjoyment that we receive 
by it, the rapidity with which this information and enjoy- 
ment are conveyed to us ; and, above all, the intercourse 
which it enables us to maintain with the more distant parts 
of the universe, as, for example, with the planets and their 
satellites, cannot fail to give it, even in the apprehension of 
the most careless observer, a preeminence over all our oth- 
er perceptive faculties. 

105. The sense of smelling informs us of certain quali- 
ties or virtues in bodies, which we call their smell ; and we 
shall therefore consider the term smell as signifying a sensa- 
tion, a feeling, or an impression upon the mind ; and which 
can only be in a mind, or sentient being. 

nius. 1. The sensation produced by this sense can have no exist- 
ence but when something that emits an odor is smelled. It there- 
fore appears to be a simple and original affection or feeling of the 
mind, altogether inexplicable and unaccountable. It is indeed impos- 
sible that it can be body -, nor can we ascribe to it figure, color, exten- 
sion, or any other quality of a body : it is a sensation, and a sensation 
can only be in a sentient being. 

2. The various odors have each their different degrees of strength 
and weakness. Most of them are agreeable or disagreeable ; and fre- 
quently those that are agreeable when weak, are disagreeable when 
stronger. We can compare different smells together ; we can per- 
ceive very few resemblances or contrarieties, or indeed relations of any 
kind between them. They are all simple in themselves, and so differ- 
ent from each other, that it is hardly possible to divide them into gen- 
era and species. Most of the names that we give them are particular ; 
as, the smell of a jessamine, of a rose, and the like. Yet there are 
some general names ; as, sweet, stinking, musty, j)utrid, cadaverous, 
aromatic. Some of them seem to refresh and animate the mind, others 
to deaden and depress it. 

3. But the power, quality, or virtue, in the rose, or in the effluvia 
proceeding from it, hath a permanent existence, independent of the 
mind, and which, by the constitution of our nature, produces the 
sensation in us. By the original constitution of our nature, we are 
both led to believe, that there is a permanent cause of the sensa- 
tion, and, prompted to seek after it, experience determines us to 
place it in the rose. 

106. The relation which the sensation of smt^ll bears to 
the memory and imagination of it, and to a mind or subject, 
is common to all our sensations, and indeed to all the opera- 
tions of the mind : the relation it bears to the will, is 
common to it with all the powers of the understanding : 
and the relation it bears to that quality or virtue of bodies 
w^hich it indicates, is common to it with the sensations of 



48 ' A Grammar of Logic. book ii 

taste, hearing, color, heat, cold; so that what hath been 
said of this nense, may easily be applied to seveial of our 
senses, and other operations of the mind. 

Ohs. 1. But in what manner the organs of our corporeal frame con- 
tribute to excite the various sensations which we are capable of expe- 
riencing, or how the communication between material objects and our 
immaterial thinking principle, is carried on, are questions which have 
hithbrto eluded the ingenuity of inquisitive men. 

2. Anatomists have carefully analyzed the various organs of sense, 
as well as the structure of the nerves and brain ; and are able to 
show us that, in all the senses, the peculiar impressions seem to be 
communicated to the nerves 5 and as all the nerves terminate in 
the brain, the impressions are, probably, conveyed thither finally. 
Here all our inquiries must terminate. (See Jllus. Art. 67, and Illus. 
Art. 70.) 

107. When sensation is excited in the mind, it is gen- 
erally in consequence of some impression first made upon 
the corporeal senses. But, in some instances, the cause ori- 
ginates in the mind (as is evident from the thrilling sensa- 
tion which accompanies certain affections of mind), and is 
thence communicated to the bodily organs, while apparently 
an effect is produced precisely similar to that of the more 
usual kind of sensation. 

Rlus. It is well known, that the mere thought of pain, in any par- 
ticular part of the body, is sufficient to excite the corresponding sen- 
sation in a certain degree. Thus, the idea of sore eyes produces a 
certain degree of pain in those organs; and the strong imagination of 
any particular taste or flavor, is accompanied with a slight sensation 
of that taste or flavor. 

108. We have already noticed the difference between 
sensation and perception [Art. 42) ; and it is obvious, that 
to speak intelligibly and scientifically, we should say, ^' the 
sensation of hunger, of fear, of joy," and '' the perception 
of extension, figure, magnitude," and the like. 

109. Many affections of the mind are accompanied with 
strong sensations, either pleasant or painful. 

Illus. 1. Anger, terror, ^tiyj, revenge, and all the malevolent pas- 
sions, have a very powerful effect upon the bodily frame, and excite 
sensations which are of a very disagreeable kind. Upon the other 
hand, joy, admiration, love, and all the amiable emotions, produce sen- 
sations which are decidedly pleasurable. 

2. Such sensations are frequently, in common langauge, called 
feelings ; a name, however, which more properly belongs to the pleas- 
urable effect of our benevolent affections, and moral judgments, as 
well as to the pleasure accompanying our approbation in matters of 
taste. {Ohs. Art. 42.) 



CHAP. It. Of Sensation, 49 

110. These feelings appear to be almost purely of an in- 
tellectual nature ; while the term sensation, as we wish to 
limit it, includes a distinct affection of the body, as well as 
of the mind. 

lUus. Thus, the sensation produced by the smell of a rose is a 
certain affection or feeling of the mind. What is the smell of the 
rose ? It is a quality or virtue of the rose, of something proceeding 
from it, which we perceive by the sense of smelling ; and this is all 
we know of the matter. But what is smelling ? It is an act of the 
mind, but is never imagined to be a quality of the mind. (Illus. 
Art. 39 ) 

Corol. Therefore smell in the rose, and the sensation caused by it, 
are not conceived to be things of the same kind, although they have 
the same name. 

111. According to the views now brought forward and 
illustrated, our sensations may be divided into those which 
arise from, the operation of material objects upon the five 
senses ; those which accompany our appetites, as hunger, 
thirst, and the like ; and those which arise from the action 
of the passions, and stronger emotions. 

Ohs. These last are by far the most numerous of the three kinds ; but 
so little attention is paid to them, that they have no names, and are 
immediately forgotten, as if they had never been ; so that it requires 
a considerable degree of attention to the operations of our minds, to 
be convinced of their existence. (See Ulus. Art. 93.) 

112. The Author of Nature, in the distribution of agree- 
able and painful feelings, hath wisely and benevolently con- 
sulted the good of the human species, and hath even shown 
us, by the same means, what tenor of conduct we ought 
to hold. 

Illus. For, Jii'st, the painful sensations of the animal kind, are ad- 
monitions to avoid what would hurt us ; and the agreeable sensations 
of the same kind, invite us to those actions that are necessary to the 
preservation of the individual or of the species. 

Secondly. By the same means nature invites us to moderate our 
bodily exercise, and admonishes us to avoid idleness and inactivity on 
the one hand, and excessite labor and fatigue on the other. 

Thirdly. The moderate exercise of all our rational powers gives 
pleasure. 

Fourthly. Every species of beauty is beheld with pleasure, and every 
species of deformity with disgust ; and we shall find all that we call 
beautiful, to be something estimable or useful in itself, or a sign of 
something that is estimable or useful. 

Fifthly. The benevolent affections are all accompanied with an 
agreeable feeling, the malevolent with the contrary. 

And, Sixthly. The highest, the noblest, and most durable pleasure, 
is that of doing well, and acting the part that becomes us ; and the 
most bitter and painful sensation the anguish and remorse of a guilt;y 
conscience. 



50 A Grammar of Logic. book it 

J^ote. The faculty of sensation receives additional illustration in 
Chapter 1st, Book IJL, under the investigation of the ^^ primary and 
secondary qualities of bodies.'' 



CHAPTER III. 



OF PERCEPTION. 



113. Perception we explained to be the faculty by which 
we are informed of the properties of external objects, in con- 
sequence of the impressions which they make on the organs 
of sense ; and the distinction between it and conception, 
consciousness, remembrance and sensation, was sufficiently 
illustrated under Articles 22, 23, and 24. 

Obs. The corporeal organs of sense are subservient to the operation 
of the faculty of perception, as well as of sensation, which gene- 
rally accompanies it. Yet it is not unreasonable to suppose, that 
these organs "rather limit and circumscribe this intellectual faculty, 
than that they are essential to its operation ; and that beings of a 
superior order, uncircumscribed by bodily organs like ours, may 
enjoy perception in a much more perfect degree than we do. A 
person who had been all his life shut up in a chamber with a sin- 
gle window, would naturally conceive that window to be essential to 
his sight, instead of being the cause of his very limited view. (See 
Obs. 3, ^rif. 6.) 

114. When we attend to that act of our mind which we 
call the perception of an external object, we shall find in it 
these three things : 

First, Some conception or notion of the object perceived. 
{Illus. 1. Art. 22.) 

Secondly/. A strong and irresistible conviction and belief 
of its present existence. {Illus. 2. Art. 22.) 

Thirdly. That this conviction and belief are immediate, 
and not the effect of reasoning. [Illus. 3. Art. 22.) 

115. First. It is impossible to perceive an object without 
some notion or conception of that which we perceive. We 
may indeed conceive an object which we do not perceive; 
but when we perceive the object, we must, at the same time, 
have some conception of it ; and we have commonly a more 
clear and steady notion of the object while we perceive it, 
than we have from memory or imagination, when it is not 
perceived. Yet, even in perception, the notion which our 
senses give of the object may be more or less clear, more or 
less distinct, in all possible degrees. 



CHAP. III. Of Perception, 51 

Illus. Thus, we see more distinctly an object at a small than at a 
Dfreat distance. The satellites of Jupiter are invisible to the naked 
eye, but we discern them by means of a telescope. An object at a 
great distance is seen more distinctly in a clear than in a foggy day. 
An object seen indistinctly with the naked eye, on account of its 
smallness, may be seen distinctly with a microscope. The objects 
in this room will be seen, by a person in the room, less and less dis- 
tinctly as the light of the day fails ; — they pass through all the 
Tiarious degrees of distinctness according to the degrees of the light, 
and at last, in total darkness, they are not seen at all. What has 
been said of the objects of sight, is so easily applied to the objects 
^''of the other senses, that the application may be left to the reader. 

116. Secondly, In perception we not only have a notion 
more or less distinct of the object perceived, but also an ir- 
resistible conviction and belief of its existence. This is 
always the case when we are certain that we perceive it. 
There may be a perception so faint and indistinct, as to 
leave us in doubt of its reality. 

Illus. 1. Thus, when a star begins to twinkle, as the light of the 
sun withdraws, one may, for a short time, think he sees it, without 
being certain, until the perception acquires some strength and 
steadiness. When a ship just begins to appear in the. utmost verge 
of the horizon, we may at first be dubious whether we perceive it 
or not. But when the perception is in any degree clear and steady, 
there remains no doubt of its reality ; and when the reality of the 
perception is ascertained, the existence of the object perceived can 
no longer be doubted. 

2. By the laws of all nations, in the most solemn judicial trials, 
wherein men's fortunes and lives are at stake, the sentence passes 
according to the testimony of eye and ear witnesses of good credit. 
An upright judge will give a fair hearing to every objection that can 
be made to the integrity of a witness, and allow it to be possible that 
he may be corrupted ; but no judge will ever suppose that witnesses 
may be imposed upon by trusting to their eyes and ears. And if a 
skeptical counsel should plead against the testimony of the witnesses, 
that they had no other evidence for what they declared but the testi- 
mony of their eyes and ears, and that the jury ought not to put so 
much faith in the witnesses' senses, as to deprive a man of life and 
fortune upon the testimony of the witnesses' eyes and ears, the judge 
would reject such a plea with disdain, and, by men of common sense, 
the counsel would be classed among lunatics and hypochondriacal 
persons. {Ohs. 1 and 2. Art. 63.) 

117. The whole conduct of mankind in the daily occur- 
rences of life, as well as in the solemn procedure of judicato- 
ries in the trial of causes, civil and criminal, demonstrates 
that the evidence of sense is a kind of evidence which we 
may securely rest upon, and against which we ought not to 
admit any reasoning ; for, being perfectly conclusive and 
unanswerab^** to reason either for or against it, is an insult 



52 A Grammar of Logic, itootc ti. 

to common sense. (See Ohs. and Corol. Art, 60; and Ohs, 
and Corol. Art. 61.) 

118. Thirdly. This conviction is not only irresistible, 
but it is immediate ; that is, it is not by a train of reason- 
ing and argumentation that we come to be convinced of the 
existence oi w^hat we perceive : we ask no argument for the 
existence of the object but that we perceive it : — perception 
commands our bf^lief upon its own authority, and disdains 
to rest that authoiity upon any reasoning whatsoever. 

119. The conviction of a truth may be irresistible, and 
yet not immediate. 

lllus. 1. Thus, my conviction that the three angles of every plain 
triangle are equal to two right angles, is irresistible, but it is not 
immediate. I am convinced of it by demonstrative reasoning. 

2. Our belief of the axioms in Euclid is not grounded upon argu- 
ment; for these truths carry with them not only an irresistible, but 
an immediate conviction. Arguments are not grounded upon them, 
but their evidence is discerned immediately by the human under- 
standing. (See Art. 44. and its lllus.) 

120. It is, no doubt, one thing to have an immediate 
conviction of a self-evident axiom ; it is another thing to 
have an immediate conviction of what we see ; but the con- 
viction is equally immediate and irresistible in both cases. 
(See lllus. 1 and 2. Art. 52.) 

lllus. No man thinks of seeking a reason to believe what he sees ; 
and before we are capable of reasoning, we put no less confidence 
in our senses than after. The rudest savage is as fully convinced 
of what he sees, and hears, and feels, as the most expert logician ; 
both are alike incapable of giving any better reason for this belief, 
than the original constitution of their nature. 

Corol. The constitution of our understanding determines us to 
hold the truth of a mathematical axiom as a first principle, from 
which other truths may be deduced, but it is deduced from none ; 
and the constitution of our power of perception determines us to 
hold the existence of what we distinctly perceive as a first princi- 
ple, from which other truths may be deduced, but it is deduced 
from none. 

121. The account which we have given of the faculty of 
perception, amounts to this ; that the mind is so formed, 
that certain impressions produced on our organs of sense by 
external objects, are followed by corresponding sensations ; 
and that these sensations, which have no more resemblance 
to the qualities of matter, than the words of a language 
have to the things they denote, are followed by a percep- 
tion of the existence and qualities of the bodies by which 
the impressions are made ; that all the steps in this process 



cttAP. IV. Of Attention. 53 

are equally incomprehensible; and that, for any thing we 
know to the contrary, the connection between the sensation 
and perception, as well as between the impression and the 
sensation, may be both arbitrary ; that it is, therefore, by 
no means impossible, that our sensations may be merely 
the occasions on which perceptions are excited ; and that, 
at any rate, the consideration of these sensations, which 
are attributes of mind, can throw no light on the manner in 
which we acquire our knowledge of the existence and qual- 
ities of bodies. (Stewart's Philosophy of the Human 
Mind.) 

Corol. From this view of the subject, it follows, that it is the ex- 
ternal objects themselves, and not any species or images of these 
objects, that the mind perceives ; and that, although, by the consti- 
tution of our nature, certain sensations are rendered the constant 
antecedents of our perceptions, yet it is just as difficult to explain 
how our perceptions are obtained by this means, as it would be 
upon the supposition that the mind were all at once inspired with 
them, without any concomitant sensations whatever. The infor- 
mation of the senses is as perfect, and gives as full conviction to the 
most ignorant, as to the most learned ; and the conviction we have 
of their reality rests upon consciousness, a faculty that puts the 
poorest of mankind upon a level with the greatest. (See Art 69. Ohs.) 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF ATTENTION. 

122. Attention is the faculty which detains, for our ex- 
amination, ideas or perceptions in the mind, and excludes 
other objects that solicit its notice. 

Illus. When we are deeply engaged in conversation, or occupied 
with any speculation that is interesting to the mind, the surround- 
ing objects do not produce in us the perceptions they are fitted to 
excite ; or those perceptions are instantly forgotten. Thus, a clock 
may strike in the same room with us, without our being able the next 
moment to recollect whether we heard it or not. 

123. In these, and similar cases, it is commonly taken 
for granted, that we really do not perceive the external ob- 
ject. But analogous facts may serve to prove that this 
opinion is not well founded. 

Wus. 1. Thus, a person who falls asleep at church, and is sud- 
denly awaked, is unable to recollect the lasi words spoken by the 

4 



54 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

preacher, or even to recollect that he was speaking. And yet, that 
sleep does not suspend entirely the powers of perception, may be 
inferred from this, that, if the preacher were to make a sudden 
pause in his discourse, every person who was asleep in the con^re- 
g^ation would instantly awake. 

Corol. In this case, therefore, it appears, that a person may be 
conscious of a perception, without being able afterwards to recol- 
lect it. 

Illus. 2. When we read a book, especially in a language that is 
not perfectly familiar to us, we must perceive successively every 
different letter, and ni ist afterwards combine these letters into syl- 
lables and words, before we comprehend the meaning of a sentence. 
This process, however, passes through the mind without leaving any 
trace in the memory. 

3. It has been proved by optical writers, that in perceiving the 
distances of visible objects from the eye, there is a judgment of the 
understanding antecedent to perception. In some cases this judg- 
ment is founded on a variety of circumstances combined together — 
the conformation of the organs necessary for distinct vision — the in- 
clination of the optic axes — the distinctness or indistinctness of the 
minute parts of the object — the distances of the intervening objects 
from each other and from the eye — and, perhaps, on other circum- 
stances besides these ; — and yet, in consequence of our familiarity 
with such processes from our earliest infancy, the perception seems to 
be instantaneous. 

4. As a further illustration, we shall produce another instance of 
a nature still more familiar. It is well known (says Mr. Stewart, to 
whom, for authority's sake. I attribute the materials of which this 
chapter is composed), that our thoughts do not succeed each other 
at random, but according to certain laws of association, which 
modern philosophers have been at pains to investigate. It fre- 
quently happens, particularly when the mind is animated by con- 
versation, that it makes a sudden transition from one subject to 
another, which, at first view, appears to be very remote from it ; 
and that it requires a considerable degree of reflection^ to enable 
the person himself, by whom the transition was made, to ascertain 
what were the intermediate ideas. A curious instance of such sud- 
den transition is mentioned by Hobbs, in his Leviathan : ^' In a. 
company (says he), in which the conversation turned on the civil 
war, what could be conceived more impertinent, than for a person to 
ask abruptly. What was the value of a Roman denarius ? On a little 
reflection, however, I was easily able to trace the train of thought 
which suggested the question ; for the original subject of discourse 
naturally introduced the history of the king, and the treachery of 
those who surrendered his person to his enemies ; this again intro- 
duced the treachery of Judas Iscariot, and the sum of money which 
he received for his reward. And all this train of ideas passed through 
the mind of the speaker in a twinkling, in consequence of the velocity 
of thought." Upon this anecdote Mr. Stewart observes very justly, 
'' It is by no means improbable, that if the speaker himself had been 
interrogated about the connection of ideas which led him aside from 
the original topic of discourse, he would have found hinaself, at first, 
at a loss for an answer." 



cttAP. IV. Of Attention. 55 

Corol. The three last ilhistrations furnish us with proof that a 
perception or an idea, which passes through the mind, may yet 
serve to introduce other ideas connected with it by the laws of associ- 
ation. 

124. When a perception or idea passes through the 
mind, without our being able to recollect it the next moment, 
persons the most illiterate ascribe their want of memory to a 
want of attention. 

Illus. Thus, in the instance already mentioned of the clock, (Illus. 
Art. 122.) a person, upon observing that the minute-hand had just 
passed twelve, would naturally say, that he did not attend to the clock 
when it was striking. 

Corol. There seems, therefore, to be a certain effort of mind upon 
which, even in the judgment of those who make no pretensions to 
philosophy, memory in some measure depends ; and this effort they 
distinguish by the name o^ attention. 

1*25. The memory depends much on the degree of atten- 
tion which we give it ; and it seems essential to memory, 
that the perception of the idea which we would wish to re- 
member, should remain in the mind for a certain space of 
time, and should be contemplated by it exclusively of ev- 
ery thing else ; and that attention consists partly (perhaps 
entirely) in the effort of the mind to detain the idea or per- 
ception, and to exclude the other objects that solicit its notice. 
And though there may be some difficulty of ascertaining in 
what this act of the mind consists, every person must be sat- 
isfied of its reality from his own consciousness, and of its 
essential connection with the power of memory. 

Ohs. The several instances which have already been mentioned, of 
ideas passing through the mind without our being able to recollect 
them the next moment, were produced merely to illustrate the mean- 
ing which we annex to the word attention^ and to recall to the recol- 
lection of the student a few striking cases, in which the possibility of 
carrying on a process of thought, which we are unable to attend to at 
the time, or to remember afterwards, is acknowledged in the received 
systems of philosophy. 

126. Among the phenomena which appear to be very 
similar to those we have introduced, illustrative of the facul- 
ty of attention, and which are explicable in the same man- 
ner, may be classed the v^^onderful effect of practice in the 
formation of habits — one of the most curious circumstances 
in the human constitution. 

nius. A mechanical operation, for example, which we at first per- 
formed with the utmost difficulty, comes, in time, to be so familiar to 



56 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

us, that we are able to perform it without the smallest danger of mis- 
take ; even while the attention appears to be completely engaged with 
other subjects. The truth seems to be, that in consequence of the as- 
sociation of ideas, the different steps of the process present themselves 
successively to our thoughts, without any recollection on our part, 
and with a degree of rapidity proportioned to the length of our expe- 
rience ; so as to save us entirely the trouble of hesitation and reflec- 
tion, by giving us every moment a precise and steady notion of the 
effect to be produced. 

127. In the case of some operations which are very fa- 
miliar to us, we find ourselves unable to attend to the acts of 
the will by which they were preceded, or even to recol- 
lect those acts ; but the circumstance of our inability to rec- 
ollect our volitions, does not authorize us to dispute their 
possibility, any more than our inability to attend to the 
process of the mind, in estimating the distance of an object 
from the eye, authorizes us to affirm that the perception is 
instantaneous. 

128. Habit differs from instinct, not in its nature, but in 
its origin ; the last being natural, the first acquired. Both 
appear to operate without will or intention, without thought, 
and have therefore been called mechanical principles. 

nius. Thus, suppose a person who has a perfectly voluntary com- 
mand over his fingers to begin to learn to play on the harpsichord 
The first step is to move his fingers from one key to another, with a 
slow motion, looking at the notes, and exerting an express act of vo- 
lition in every motion. By degrees the motions cling to one another, 
and to the impressions of the notes, in the way of association, the acts 
of volition growing less and less express all the time, till at last they 
become evanescent and imperceptible. For an e.spert performer will 
play from notes, or notions of notes, laid up in the memory ; and at the 
same time carry on a train of thoughts in his mind quite different 
from the piece of music which he is playing, or even hold a conversa- 
tion with another. Here, it appears, that those operations which have 
become habitual from long practice, preclude the possibility of recol- 
lecting every diflferent volition of the mind ; yet it is not to be doubted 
that there is an act of the will preceding every motion of each finger, 
since the most rapid performer can, when he pleases, play so slowly, 
as to be able to attend to every separate act of his will in the various 
movements of his fingers, and even to recollect those volitions after- 
wards ; and he can gradually accelerate the rate of his execution, till 
he is unable to recollect these acts. 

Corol. The operations in these two cases appear to be carried on 
precisely in the same manner, and differ only in the degree of ra- 
pidity ; and when this rapidity exceeds a certain rate, the acts of the 
will are too momentary to leavr any impression on the memory. 

129. The corollary just drawn from this second illustra- 



CHAP. IV. Of Attention. 57 

tion, is supported by the analogy of many other facts in our 
constitution. 

Illus. 1. Thus, an expert accountant can sum up, ahnost at a 
single glance of his eye, a long column of figures ; nay, of far- 
things, pence, shillings, and pounds, at one and the same time ; — 
he can tell the sum with unerring certainty, while, at the same 
time, he is unable to recollect any one of the figures of which that 
sum is composed ; and yet nobody doubts that each of these fig- 
ures has passed through his mind, or supposes that when the ra- 
pidity of the process becomes so great that he is unable to recol- 
lect the various steps of it, he obtains the result by a sort of in- 
spiration. 

2. It has been found, by actual trial, that it is possible to pronounce 
about two thousand letters in a minute, and though the incon- 
ceivable rapidity with which our intellectual operations proceed, 
render it impossible to discriminate the volitions of our mind, 
the articulation of every letter, in reading aloud, must be pre- 
ceded by a separate volition. Here, then, we have evidence 
that the mind is so formed as to be able to carry on certain intel- 
lectual processes, in intervals of time too short to be estimated by 
our faculties ; yet, were our powers of attention and memory more 
perfect than they are, so as to give us the same advantage in ex- 
amining rapid events, which the microscope gives us for examin- 
ing minute portions of extension, they would enlarge our views 
with respect to the intellectual world, no less than that instrument 
has with respect to the material. 

130. As the great use of attention and memory is to ena- 
ble us to treasure up the results of our experience and re- 
flection for the future regulation of our conduct, it would 
have answered no purpose for the Author of our nature to 
have extended their province to those intervals of time, which 
we have no occasion to estimate in the common business of 
life. All the intellectual processes which have been men- 
tioned, are subservient to some particular end, either of per- 
ception or of action ; and it would have been perfectly super- 
fluous, if, after this end were gained, the steps which are in- 
strumental in bringing it about, were all treasured up in the 
memory : such a constitution of our nature would have had 
no other effect but to store the mind with a variety of use- 
less particulars. 

131. In confirmation of these reasonings on the faculty 
of attention, the following illustration affords a more palpa- 
ble instance than any that we have yet mentioned, of the 
rapidity with which the thoughts may be trained up, by prac- 
tice, to shift from one thing to another. 

Ulus. 1. When an equilibrist balances a rod upon his finger, not 
only the attention of his mind, but the observation of his eye, is con- 

4* 



58 A Grammar of Logic. book. ii. 

stantly requisite. It is evident that the part of his body which sup- 
ports the object is never wholly at rest; otherwise the object would 
no more stand upon it, than if placed in the same position upon a ta- 
ble. The equilibrist, therefore, must watch, in the very beginning, 
every inclination of the object from the proper position, in order to 
counteract this inclination by a contrary movement. In this manner 
the object has never time to fall in any one direction, and is supported 
in a way somewhat analogous to that in which a top is supported on 
a pivot, by being made to spin upon an axis. 

2. That a person should be able to do this in the case of a single 
object, is curious ; but that he should be able to balance, in the same 
way, two, three, nay, half a dozen of objects, upon different parts of 
his body, and at the same time balance himself on a small cord or 
wire, is indeed wonderful. Nor is it possible to conceive, that in such 
an instance, the mind, at one and the same moment, attends to these 
equilibriums ; for it is not merely the attention which is requisite, but 
the eye. We must therefore conclude, that both the attention and the 
eye are directed successively to the different equilibriums, but change 
from one object to another with such velocity, that the effect, with 
respect to the experiment, is the same as if they were directed to all 
the objects constantly. 

Corol. This last illustration affords direct evidence, as Mr. Stewart 
observes, of the possibility of our exerting acts of the will, which 
we are unable to recollect ; for the movements of the equilibrist do 
not succeed each other in regular order, like those of the harpsi- 
chord player, in performing a piece of music ; but must, in every 
instance, be regulated by accidents, which may vary in numberless 
respects, — and which indeed must vary in numberless respects every 
time he repeats the experiment; and, therefore, though, in the case 
of the musician, we should suppose that the motions cling to one 
another, and to the impressions of the notes, in the way of associa- 
tion, without any intervention in the state of mind called will, yet 
in this instance of the equilibrist, even the possibility of such a sup 
position is directly contradicted by the fact which has been estab- 
lished. 

132. The faculty of attention is susceptible of much im- 
provement, as may be established from the well-known fact, 
that a person who accidentally loses his sight, never fails to 
improve gradually in the sensibility of his touch. 

Illus. Now there are only two ways of explaining this. The one 
is, that, in consequence of the loss of the one sense, some change 
takes place in the physical constitution of the body, so as to improve 
a different organ of perception. The other is, that the mind gradu- 
ally acquires a power of attending to and remembering those slighter 
sensations of which it was formerly conscious, but which, from habits 
of inattention, made no impression whatever on the memory. No 
one, surely, can hesitate, for a moment, in pronouncing which of these 
two suppositions is the more philosophical. 

133. Hitherto we have treated only of those habits in 
which both mind and body are concerned ; but there are 



k 



CHAP. IV. Of Attention, 59 

phenomena purely intellectual, that are explicable on the 
same principles. 

lUus. 1. Every person who has studied the elements of geometry, 
must have observed many cases in which the truth of a theorem struck 
him the moment he heard the enunciation ; yet he might not be able 
to state immediately to others upon what his conviction was founded ; 
but there can be no doubt but that, before he gave his assent to the 
theorem, a process of thought passed through the mind, but passed so 
quickly, that he could not, without difficulty, arrest his ideas in their 
rapid succession, and state them to others in their proper and logical 
order. 

134. In politics, in morals, and in common life, many 
questions daily occur, in considering which, we almost in- 
stantaneously see where the truth lies, although we are not 
in a condition, all at once, to explain the grounds of our 
conviction. But even in those cases in which the truth of 
a proposition seems to strike us instantaneously, although we 
may not be able, at first, to discover the media of proof, we 
seldom fail in the discovery by perseverance. And nothing 
contributes so much to form this talent as that study which 
has the operations of the mind for its object ; for, by habitu- 
ating us to reflect on the subjects of our consciousness, it 
enables us to retard, in a considerable degree, the current of 
thought ; to arrest many of those ideas which would other- 
wise escape our notice ; and to render the arguments which 
we employ for the conviction of others, an exact transcript 
of those trains of inquiry and reasoning, which originally 
led us to form our opinions. 

135. Men of business, who are under the necessity of 
thinking and deciding on the spur of the occasion, are led to 
cultivate, as much as possible, a quickness in their mental 
operations ; and sometimes acquire it in so great a degree, 
that their judgments seem to be almost intuitive. A stock- 
jobber knows this. 

Ohs. And the greatest generals, in new and untried difficulties, in 
the midst of battle, have, with a quickness that astonished all around 
them, decided upon movements no less hazardous than successful. 
Now, long practice in the field might give them the power of carrying 
on certain intellectual processes concerning modes of attack and de- 
fence, but the reasonings by which their judgments were swayed, in 
those particular instances we have alluded to. consisted only of a few 
steps, which, as soon as the intellectual process was finished, vanished, 
perhaps forever, entirely from the memory. 

136. On the other hand, men of speculation, who have 
fiot merely to form opinions for themselves, but to commu- 
nicate them to others, find 'i\ necessary to retard the traip 



60 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

of thought as it passes in the mind, so as to be able after- 
wards to recollect every different step of the process ; a 
habit which, in some cases, has such an influence on the 
intellectual powers, that there are men who, even in their 
private speculations, not only make use of words as an in- 
strument of thought, but form these words into regular sen- 
tences. 

137. When a train of thought leads to any interesting 
conclusion, or excites any pleasant feeling, it becomes pe- 
culiarly difficult to arrest our fleeting ideas, because the mind 
has little inclination to retrace the steps by which it arrived 
at the pleasure which it now feels. 

Obs. This is one great cause of the difficulty attending philosophical 
criticism: and exquisite sensibility, so far from being useful in this 
species of criticism, both gives a disrelish for the study and disquali- 
fies for pursuing it legitimately. 

138. There is a great variety of cases, in which the mind 
apparently exerts different acts of attention at once ; but 
from the illustrations which we have given of the astonishing 
rapidity of thought, it is obvious, that those acts are not co- 
existent ; or, in other words, that we do not attend, at one 
and the same instant, to objects which we can attend to 
separately. 

Illus. 1. The case of the equilibrist and rope-dancer affords direct 
evidence of the possibility of the mind's exerting different successive 
acts in an interval of time so short, as to produce the same sensible 
effect as if they had been exerted at one and the same moment. In 
this case, every movement of the eyes precedes a thought of the 
mind, every thought a volition, every volition a separate action of 
muscular force, but so rapidly does each of these succeed the other, 
that though they seem instantaneous, they cannot be mathematically 
coexistent. 

2. In a concert of music, a good ear can attend to the different 
parts of the music separately, or can attend to them all at once, 
and feel the full effect of the harmony ; but the mind is constantly 
varying its attention from one part of the music to the other, and its 
operations are so rapid as to give us no perception of an interval of 
time. 

3. In viewing a picture, the mind at one and the same time 
perceives every point in the outline of the object (provided the 
whole be painted on the retina at one and the same instant), for 
perception, like consciousness, is an involuntary operation; but as 
no two points of the outline are in the same direction, every point, 
by itself, constitutes just as distinct an object of attention to the 
mind, as if it were separated by an interval of empty space from all 
the rest. As, therefore, it is impossible for the mind to attend to 
more than one of those points at once, and as the perception of the 



CHAP. V. Of Conception. 61 

figure oC the object implies a knowledge of the relative situation of 
the different points with respect to each other, we must conclude 
that the perception of the figure by the eye, is the result of a num- 
ber of different acts of attention. These acts of attention, however, 
are performed with such rapidity, that the effect, with respect to us, 
is the same as if the perception were instantaneous. 

Carol. 1. If the perception of visible figure were an immediate 
consequence of the picture on the retina, we should have, at the 
first glance, as distinct an idea of a figure of a thousand sides, as of 
a triangle or a square ; for when the figure is very simple, the pro- 
cess of the mind is so rapid, that the perception seems to be instan- 
taneous ; but virhen the sides are multiplied beyond a certain number, 
the interval of time necessary for these different acts of attention be- 
comes perceptible. 

2. If these reasonings be admitted, it will follow, that without 
the faculty of memory, we could have no perception of visible 
figure. 



CHAPTER V. 

OF CONCEPTION. 

139. Conception is that faculty of the mind which en- 
ables us to form a notion of an absent object of perception ; 
or of a sensation which it has formerly felt. 

Illus. When a painter paints a picture of a friend who is absent 
or dead, he is commonly said to paint from memory ; and the ex- 
pression is sufficiently correct for common conversation. But, in an 
analysis of the powers of the mind, there is ground for a distinction 
between conception and the other powers, with some of which it is 
often confounded. The power of conception enables the painter to 
make the features of his friend an object of thought, so as to copy 
the resemblance ; the power of memory recognizes these features as 
a former object of perception. Thus, conception is distinguished 
from memory. Every act of memory includes an idea of the past; 
conception implies no idea of time whatever. 

Note Shakspeare calls this power the mind's eye. 

Hamlet. My father ! Me thinks I see my father. 

Horatio. Where, my lord .'' 

Hamlet. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 

Hamlet, Act 1. Scene 4. 

140. Conception corresponds, according to the view we 
have taken of it, to what the schoolmen call simple appre- 
hension; with this diflference only, that they include, un- 
der this name, our apprehension of general propositions; 
whereas the word conception is, in this volume, limited to 
our sensations and the objects of our perceptions- 



62 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

llJus. This distinction is warranted by the authority 'of philoso- 
phers in a case perfectly analogous. Thus, in ordinary language, we 
apply the same word perception to the knowledge which we have by 
our senses of external objects, and to our knowledge of a speculative 
truth. And between the conception of a truth, and the conception 
of an absent object of sense, there is obviously as wide a difference, 
as between the perception of a tree and the perception of a mathe- 
matical theorem. Conception, therefore, is that faculty whose prov- 
ince it is to enable us to form a notion of our past sensations, or of 
the objects of sense that we have formerly perceived. 

141. Conception is frequently used as synonymous with 
imagination, but imagination is distinguished from concep- 
tion as a part from a whole. 

Illus. The business of conception is to present us with an exact 
transcript of what we have felt or perceived. But we have, more- 
over, a power of modifying our conceptions, by combining the parts 
of different conceptions together, so as to form new wholes of our 
own creation. This power, according to Mr. Stewart, is expressed by 
the word imagination ; and he apprehends, that this is the proper 
sense of the word : if imagination be the power which gives birth to 
the productions of the poet and the painter. This is not a simple 
faculty of the mind, for it presupposes abstraction, to separate from 
each other qualities and circumstances which have been perceived in 
conjunction ; and also judgment and taste to direct us, in forming the 
combinations. 

Obs. People, in common discourse, often use the phrase thinking 
upon an object, to express what we have illustrated as the concep- 
tion of it. Shakspeare, whose talent for philosophizing was equal 
to his imaginative powers as a poet, uses, in the following passage, 
the former of these phrases in the same sense as we should use 
conception, 3.nd the words imagination and apprehension are synony- 
mous with each other. 

Who can hold a fire in his hand 



By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 
By bare imagination of a feast ? 
Or wallow naked in December's snow, 
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? 
Oh no ! the apprehension of the good 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. 

K. Richard II. Act 1. Scene 6 

142. We can conceive the objects of some senses much 
more easily than those of others. And, Jirst, as to visible 
objects ; we can conceive the structure of a building that is 
familiar to us much more easily than a particular sound, a 
particular taste, or a particular pain which we have former- 
ly felt. 

liLus. The peculiarity in the case of visible objects seems to arise 
from this; that when we think of a sound or of a taste, the object 



CHAP. V. Of Conception. 63 

of our conception is one singie detached sensation ; whereas every 
visible object is complex ; and the conception that we form of it is 
aided by the association of ideas. We attend not, at one instant, to 
every point of the picture of an object on the retina (Corol. 1. Art. 
138) ; nor at one instant, therefore, do we form a conception of the 
whole of any visible object ; but . our conception of the object as a 
whole, is the result of many conceptions. The association of ideas 
connects the different parts together, and presents them to the mind 
in their proper arrangement ; and the various relations which these 
parts bear to one another in point of situation, contribute greatly to 
strengthen the associations. This illustration is confirmed by the 
fact, that it is more easy to remember a succession of sounds, than 
any particular sound which we have heard detached and uncon- 
nected. The war-hoop of the American Indians, the yell of Cos- 
sacks, the shout of victory, or any cry that alarmed or encouraged 
us, may be considered a particular sound, but the conception of such 
a sound depends on the association of ideas. 

143. The power of conceiving visible objects, like other 
powers that depend on the association of ideas, may be 
greatly improved by habit. 

Il'us. A person accustomed to drawing, retains a much more per- 
fect notion of a building, or of a landscape, which he has seen, than 
one who has never practised that art. A portrait painter traces the 
forms of the human body from memory, with as little exertion as he 
employs in writing the letters which compose his name. 

144. Secondly. In the power of conceiving colors, too, 
there are striking differences among individuals ; and prob- 
ably, in the greater number of instances, the supposed de- 
fects of sight, in this respect, ought rather to be ascribed to 
a defect in the power of conception, than in the organ of 
the perception of color. 

lUus. We often see two men who are perfectly sensible of the 
difference between two colors when they are presented to them, 
who cannot give names to these colors with confidence, when they 
see them apart ; and are perhaps apt to confound the one with the 
other. They feel the sensation of color like other men, it should 
seem, when the object is present, but are incapable, probably in con- 
sequence of some early habit of inattention, to conceive the sensation 
distinctly when the object is removed. Without tliis power of 
conception, Mr. Stewart thinks, that it is evidently impossible for 
them, how lively soever their sensations may be, to give a name to 
^.ny color ; for the application of the name supposes not only a ca- 
pacity of receiving the sensation, but a power of comparing it with 
one formerly felt. In some cases, perhaps, the sensation is not felt 
at all ; and in others, the faintness of the sensation may be one cause 
of those habits of inattention, from which the incapacity of concep- 
tion has arisen. 

145. Thirdly. A talent for lively description, at least in 
the case of sensible objects, depends chiefly on the degree 



04 A Grammar of Logic, 

in which the describer possesses the power of conception. 
Nor is it merely to the accuracy of our description, in com- 
mon conversation, that this power is subservient ; it contrib- 
utes more than any thing else to render them striking and 
expressive .to others, by guiding us to a selection of such 
circumstances as are most prominent and characteristical. 

Obs. The best rule for descriptive composition; is, to attend to 
those rules which make the deepest impression on our own minds. 
Now, these particulars are in general the outline : and it is the prov- 
ince of conception to neglect a minute specification of particulars, 
and to select only such as struck us most at the moment the object 
we are describing from recollection was present to our view. A 
person may therefore write a happier description of an object from 
the conception than from the actual perception of that object. 

146. The foregoing observations, with their respective 
illustrations, apply to conception, as distinguished from 
imagination. The two faculties, we observed, are very nearly 
allied ; and are frequently so blended and compounded, 
that it is difficult to say, to which of the two some particular 
operations of the mind are to be referred. There are also 
general facts which hold equally with respect to both. 

147. The exercise both of conception and imagination is 
always accompanied with a belief that their objects exist. 

lllus. 1. Thus, when the imagination is very lively, as in dream- 
ing and madness, a real existence is ascribed to its objects; and in 
the case, too, of those who, in spite of their own general belief of 
the absurdity of the vulgar stories of apparitions, dare not trust 
themselves alone with their own imaginations in the dark, we have 
all the evidence that the thing admits of, that imagination is at- 
tended with belief Dr. Reid's friend, who could not sleep in a room 
alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark, felt and acted in the 
same manner as he would have done, if he had beheved that the ob- 
jects of his fear were real, which is the only proof that the philoso- 
phers produce, or can produce, of the belief which accompanies 
perception. 

2. The painter, who conceives the face and figure of an absent 
friend, m order to draw his picture, beheves, for the moment, that 
his friend is before him. The belief is only momentary, for it is 
extremely difficult, in our waking hours, to keep up a steady and 
undivided attention to any object we conceive or imagine ; and as 
soon as the conception or imagination is over, the belief which attended 
It is at an end. We, in fact, consider them as creations of the mind, 
which have no separate and independent existence, from the facility 
with which we can recall or dismiss the objects of these powers at 
pleasure. But when the conceptions of the mind are rendered steady 
and permanent, by being strongly associated with any sensible im- 
pression, as when we gaze on a magnificent prospect, they command 
our belief no less that our actual perceptions; and, therefore, if it 
were possible for us, with our eyes shut, to keep up for a length 



CHAP. V. Of Conception. 65 

of time, the conception of the immense extent of the whole scene that 
had formerly engaged our eyes, we should, as long as this effort con- 
tinued, believe that all the diffe^rent parts of which it was composed, 
were present to our senses. 

148. The knowledge we obtain by the eye, of the tangi- 
ble qualities of bodies, is the result of a complex operation 
of the mind ; comprehending, first , the perception of those 
qualities, which are the proper and original objects of sight ; 
and, secondly, the conception of those tangible qualities, of 
which the original perceptions of sight are found from expe- 
rience to be the signs. 

Corol. The notions, therefore, we form by means of the eye, of the 
tangible qualities of bodies, and of the distances of these objects from 
the organ, are mere conceptions ; strongly, and- indeed indissolubly, 
associated, by early and constant habit, with the original perceptions 
of sight. 

149. The effects which exhibitions of fictitious distress 
produce on the mind, may all be resolved into the concep- 
tions we have, for the moment, that the whole is real. 

Elus. 1. During the representation of a tragedy, we have a general 
conviction that the whole is a fiction ; but, 1 believe, no person ever 
witnessed Mrs. Siddons, Miss O'Neill, Mr. John Kemble, and Mr. 
Kean, in tragedy, who did not partake in the emotions which those 
artists created ; who did not entertain a momentary belief that the dis- 
tresses, which were but fictitious, were actually real. But whence 
arose this belief.'* whence the conception .'' — but from the contagion 
spread by the faithful expression of the passions. 

2. The emotions produced by tragedy are, thence, analogous to the 
dread we feel when we look down from the battlements of a tower ; — 
or the horror which seizes a person, who, fleeing from a conflagra- 
tion, escapes from the top of a house by a path, which, at another 
time, he would have considered as impracticable ; — or to the aston- 
ishment of soldiers, who, in mounting a breach, have found their way 
to the enemy, by a route which appeared inaccessible after their vio- 
lent passions had subsided. We have a general conviction that there 
is no ground for the feelings which we experience during the repre- 
sentation of a tragedy, or when we look down from the battlements 
of a tower, any more than the person who has escaped from the fire 
has to feel horror at the recollection of the imminent danger he was 
in as he traversed the hazardous path, or than the soldier's wonder 
\i himself in having scrambled by a route the bare contemnlrtion of 
jrhich suspends his curiosity to retrace his footsteps. 

5 



66 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

CHAPTER VI. 

OF ABSTRACTION. 

150. Abstraction is the faculty by which we analyze 
the actual assemblages of nature into their constituent parts. 
It is this faculty which enables us to ascertain what quali- 
ties an object has peculiar to itself, and what are in common 
to it and other objects of a like nature, which will therefore 
be referred to the same class with it. In short, the whole 
process of the formation of general notions is due to the 
faculty of abstraction alone. 

Obs. Had we possessed no such faculty as abstraction, all our 
knowledge would have been limited to an acquaintance with individ- 
ual beings and individual facts. But the very essence of science con- 
sists in generalizing and reducing to a few classes, or general princi- 
ples, the multitude of individual things which every branch of human 
knowledge embraces. Hence, without abstraction, science would 
have had no existence ; and the knowledge of man would have been 
like that of the lower animals, in whom no traces of this faculty are 
discernible; circumscribed to an acquaintance with those objects and 
events in nature with which he was connected by a regard to his own 
knowledge and preservation. 

151. It is in the discovery of general principles, that rea- 
son has its noblest exercise. It is generalization alone that 
makes it possible for us continually to go on in scientific im 
provement. 

Ohs. It is in consequence of this, that at the moment when a mul 
titude of particular solutions and of insulated facts begin to distract 
the attention, and to overcharge the memory, the former gradually 
lose themselves in one general method, and the latter unite in one 
general law : and that these generalizations, continually succeeding 
one to another, like the successive multiplications of a number into 
itself, have no other limit than that infinity which the human facul- 
ties are imable to comprehend. Hence it appear-^, that abstraction is 
completely subservient to all the nobler exertions of reason , to those, 
in particular, by which man has attained the high distinction of being 
denominated a rational animal. 

152. In proportion as a man familiarizes himself in the 
exercise of abstraction, and accustoms himself to consider 
what are the distinguishing characteristics of the various ob- 
jects of his contemplation, and what they have h\ common 
with others, does he fit himself for scientific pursuits 

Ohs. But it has been supposed that the formation of gerx«?ral prin* 



CHAP. VI. Of Abstraction, 67 

ciples is not entirely suited to the direction of our conduct in the 
more ordinary occurrences of life ; and hence the origin of that max 
im which has been so industriously propagated by the dunces of every 
age — that a man of genius is unfit for business ! But when theoreti- 
cal knowledge and practical skill are happily combined in the same 
person, the intellectual power of man appears in its full perfection, 
and fits him equally to conduct with a masterly hand the duties of or- 
dinary business, and to contend successfully with the untried difficul- 
ties of new and hazardous situations. 

I. Of Abstract or General Terrrib. 

153. The words we use in language are either gener- 
al words or proper names. Proper names belong to indi- 
viduals, as George, London, Thames ; common names, or 
general words, are not appropriated to signify any one in- 
dividual thing, but are equally related to many; as man. 
horse, star. 

Obs. Under general words are comprehended not only those which 
the logicians call general terms : that is to say, such words as may 
make the subject or the predicate of a proposition, but likewise their 
auxiliaries or accessories, such as prepositions, conjunctions, articles, 
which are all general words, though they cannot properly be called 
general terms. 

154. In every language, rude or polished, general words 
make the greatest part, and proper names the least. Gram- 
marians have reduced all words to eight or nine classes, 
which are called parts of speech. 

Ilkis. Proper names are found only among nouns. All verbs, par- 
ticiples, pronouns, conjunctions, interjections and articles, are general 
terms. Of nouns, all adjectives are general, and the greater part of 
substantives. Every substantive that has a plural number, is a gen- 
eral word; for no proper name can have a plural number, because it 
signifies only one individual. Custom, however, hath made a few 
proper names plural, but the position we have laid down is not over- 
thrown by an exception. In all the books of Euclid's Elements, there 
is not one word that is not general. 

Obs. At the same time, we observe, that all the objects which we 
perceive are individuals. Every object of sense, of memory, or of 
consciousness, is an individual. All the good things we desire or en- 
joy, and all the evils we feel or fear, must come from individuals. 

155. The reason why proper names make but a very small 
and inconsiderable part of a language, is, that these names 
are local, and having no names answering to them in other 
languages, are not accounted a part of the language, any 
more than the customs of a hamlet are accounted p^ut of the 
law of the nation, much less of the whole liuraan family. 



68 A Gr^mnmar of Logic. book n 

For this reason there are but few proper names belonging to 
a language. 

156. And the reason why general words make the greatest 
part of every language, may be easily accounted for by the 
following illustrations. 

Illus. 1. Every individual that falls within our view has various 
attributes ; and it is by these that it becomes useful or hurtful to us. 
We know not the essence of any individual object. All the knowl- 
edge we can gain of it is the knowledge of its attributes, its quantity, 
its various relations to other things, its place, its situation, its motions. 
It is by such attributes of things only that we communicate our 
knowledge of them to others. By their attributes, our hopes and fears 
from them are regulated ; and it is only by attention to their attributes 
that we can make them subservient to our ends ; and therefore we 
give names to such attributes. 

2. Now, all attributes must, from their nature, be expressed by gen- 
eral words, and are so expressed in all languages. Anciently, attri- 
butes were, in general, expressed by two names which express their 
nature. They were called universalSy because they might belong 
equally to many individuals, and are not confined to one. They were 
also called predicahles, because whatever is predicated, that is, affirmed 
or denied of one subject, may be affirmed or denied of more than one, 
and is, therefore, an universal, and expressed by a general word. A 
predicable, therefore, signifies the same thing as an attribute, with this 
difference only, that the first word is Latin, the last English. The 
attributes which we find either in the works of nature, or of human 
ingenuity, are common to many individuals. We either find them to 
be so, or presume them to be so, and give them the same name in 
every subject to which they belong. 

3. There are not only attributes belonging to individual subjects, 
but there are likewise attributes of attributes, which may be called 
secondary attributes. Most attributes are capable of different degrees 
and different modifications, which must be expressed by general 
words. 

Example. Thus, it is an attribute of many bodies to be moved, but 
motion may be in an endless variety of directions. It may be quick, 
or slow, rectilineal, or curvilineal ; it may be equable, accelerated, or 
retarded. 

Corol. As all attributes, therefore, whether primary or secondary, 
are expressed by general words, it follows, that in every proposition 
which we express in language, what is affirmed or denied of the sub- 
ject of the proposition, must be expressed by general words. And 
that the subject of the proposition may often be a general w^ord, will 
appear from the next illustration. 

f/lus. 4. The same faculties by which we distinguish the different 
attributes belonging to the same subject, and give names to them, 
enable us likewise to observe, that many subjects agree in certain at- 
tributes, while they difter in others. By this means we are enabled to 
reduce individuals which are infinite, to a limited number of classes j 
which are all kinds or sorts, and, in the scholastic dialect, these are 
called general species. 



uiiAP. VI. Of Abstraction. \y9 

157. Observing many individuals to agree in certain at- 
tributes, we refer them all to one class, and give a name to 
the class. This name comprehends in its signification, not 
one attribute only, but all the attributes which distinguish 
that class, and by affirming this name of any individual, 
we affirm it to have all the attributes which characterize 
the class. 

nius. Thus men, dogs, horses, elephants, are so many different 
classes of animals. In like manner we marshal other substances, 
vegetable and inanimate, into classes; as oaks, elms, firs ; earths, 
minerals. We form also into classes, qualities, relations, actions, af- 
fections, and passions, and all other things. 

158. When a class is very large, it is divided into sub- 
ordinate classes ; the higher class being called a genus or 
kind ; the lower a species, or sort of the higher. Sometimes 
a species is still subdivided into subordinate species ; and 
this subdivision is carried on as far as is found convenient 
for the purpose of language, or for the improvement of 
knowledge. 

nius. In this distribution of things into genera and species, it is 
evident that the name of the species comprehends more attributes 
than the name of the genus. The species comprehends all that is in 
the genus, and those attributes likewise which distinguish that species 
from others belonging to the same genus ; and the more such divisions 
we make, the names of the lower become still the more comprehensive 
in their signification, but the less extensive in their application to in- 
dividuals. 

Corol. Hence it is an axiom in logic, that the more extensive any 
general term is, it is the less comprehensive ; and on the contrary, 
the more comprehensive, the less extensive. 

Example. In the following series of subordinate general terms, an- 
imal, man. Frenchman, Parisian, every subsequent term comprehends 
in its signification, all that is in the preceding, and something more ; 
and every antecedent term extends to more individuals than the sub- 
sequent. 

159. Every genus, and every species of things, may be 
either the subject or the predicate of a proposition, nay, of 
innumerable propositions ; for every attribute common to the 
genus or species, may be affirmed of it ; and the genus may 
be affirmed of every species, and both genus and species of 
every individual to which it extends. 

Illus. 1. Thus, of man, it may be affirmed, that he is an animal 
made up of body and mind ; that he is of few days and full of trouble ; 
that he is capable of various improvements in arts, in knowledge, and 
in virtue. In a word, every thing common to the species may be af- 
firmed of man ; and of all su jh propositions, which are innumerable 
man is the subject. 

5* 



70 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

2. Again, of every nation and tribe, and of every individual of the 
liurnan race that is, that was, or that shall be, it may be affirmed that 
they are men. in all such propositions, which are innumerable, man 
is the predicate of the proposition. 

Obs. We have observed above an extension and comprehension of 
general terms; and that in any subdivision of things, the name of the 
lowest species is most comprehensive, and that of the highest genus 
most extensive ; we shall now see that, by means of such general 
terms, there is also an extension and comprehension of propositions, 
which.js one of the noblest powers of language, and fits it for express- 
ing, with great ease and expedition, the highest attainments in knowl- 
edge of which the human understanding is capable. 

160. When the predicate is a genus or a species, the 
proposition is more or less comprehensive, according as the 
predicate is so. 

Illus. Thus, when I say, that this seal is gold, by this single propo- 
sition I affirm of it all the properties which that metal is known to 
have. When I say of any man, that he. is a malhematician^ this 
appellation comprehends all the attributes that belong to him as an 
animal, as a man, and as one who has studied mathematics. When I 
say, that the orbit of the planet Mercurij is an ellipse, 1 thereby affirm 
of that orbit all the properties which Apollonius or other geometri- 
cians have discovered, or which may be discovered, of that species 
of figure. 

161. Again, when the subject of a proposition is a genus 
or a species, the proposition is more or less extensive, ac- 
cording as the subject is. 

I'ilus. Thus, when I am taught, that the three angles of a plane tri- 
angle are equal to two right angles, this proposition extends to every 
species of plane triangle, and to every individual plane triangle which 
has existed, vvhich does exist, or which can exist. 

Obs. Such extensive and comprehensive propositions condense hu- 
man knowledge, and adapt it to the capacity of our minds with great 
addition to its beauty, and without any diminution to its distinctness 
and perspicuity. 

II . Of General Conceptions. 

162. Words could have no general signification, unless 
there had been conceptions in the minds of those who used 
them, of things that are general ; and it is to such that we 
give the names of general conceptions. These conceptions 
take this denomination, not from the act of the mind in con- 
ceiving, which is an individual act, but from the object or 
thing conceived, which is general. 

163. General conceptions are expressed by general 
terms, that is, by such general words as may be the subject 
or the predicate of a proposition ; and these terms are ei- 



CHAP. VI. Of Ahiitradion. 71 

ther attributes of things, or they signify genera or species of 
things. 

164. We have a more distinct conception of the attributes 
of all the individuals with which we are acquainted, than of 
the subject to which those attributes belong. 

Ilbis. 1. The conception that we form of any individual body we 
have access to know, is, that it has length, breadth, and thickness; 
such a figure, and such a color ; that it is hard, or soft, or fluid ; that 
it has such qualities, and is fit for such purposes. If it is a vege- 
table, we may know where it grows, what is the form of its leaves, 
and flower and seed ; if an animal, what are its natural instincts, its 
manner of life, and of rearing its young. Of these attributes belong- 
ing to this individual, and numberless others, we may surely have a 
distinct conception ; and we shall find words in language by which 
we can clearly and distinctly express them. 

2. If we consider, in like manner, the conception that we form of 
any individual person of our acquaintance, we shall find it to be made 
up of various attributes, which we ascribe to him ; such as, that he 
is the son of such a man, the brother of such another, that he has 
such an employment or oflice, such a fortune, that he is tali or short, 
well or ill made, comely or ill favored, young or old, married or un- 
married ; to this we may add his temper, his character, his abilities, 
and perhaps some anecdotes of his history. Such is the conception 
we form of individual persons of our acquaintance ; by such attri- 
butes we describe them to those who know them not ; and by such 
attributes historians give us a conception of the personages of 
former times ; nor is it possible to describe them in any other 
way. 

Corol. All the distinct knowledge we have or can have of any indi- 
vidual, is the knowledge of its attributes, for we know not the essence 
of any individual ; and indeed this seems to be beyond the reach of 
the human faculties. 

165. Now, every attribute is what the ancients called an 
universal. It is, or may be, common to various individuals ; 
and, on this account, attributes are expressed by general 
words. 

Obs. 1. It appears, likewise, from every man's experience, that he 
may have as clear and distinct a conception of such attributes as we 
have named, and of innumerable others, as he can have of any indi- 
vidual to which they belong. 

2. Indeed, all that we distinctly conceive about individuals is 
about their attributes. It is true we conceive a subject to whicli 
they belong; but of this subject, whether it be body or mind, when 
its attributes are set aside, we have but an obscure and relative con- 
ception. 

J.66. The other class of general terms are those that 
signify the genera and species, into which we divide and 



72 A Grammar of Logic. book ii 

subdivide things. And. if we be able to form distinct concep- 
tions of attributes, it cannot surely be denied that we have 
distinct conceptions of genera and species ; because they are 
only collections of attributes, which we conceive to exist in 
a subject, and to which we give a general name. If the at- 
tributes comprehended under that general name be distinctly 
conceived, the thing meant by the name must be distinctly 
conceived ; and the name may be justly attributed to every 
individual that has those attributes. 

lilus. Thus, we can conceive distinctly what it is to have wings, 
to be covered with feathers, to lay eggs. Suppose, then^ we give the 
name of bird to every animal that has these three attributes. And if 
this be admitted to be the definition of a bird, there is nothing that we 
can conceive more distinctly ; for undoubtedly our conception of the 
animal is as distinct as our notion of the attributes which are com- 
mon to the species. If we had never seen a bird, and can but be 
made to understand the definition, we can easily apply it, without 
danger of mistake, to every individual of the species. 

167. When things are divided and subdivided by men of 
science, and names given to the genera and species, those 
names are defined. 

Illus. Thus, the genera and species of plants, and of other natural 
bodies, are accurately defined by writers in the various branches of 
natural history ; so that, to all future generations, the definition will 
convey a distinct notion of the genus or species defined. 

168. When we meet with words signifying genera and 
species of things, which have a meaning somewhat vague 
and indistinct, so that they who speak the same language 
do not always use them in the same sense, Ave may rest 
assured that there is no definition of them which has au- 
thority. 

Ilius. Thus, a man may know, that when he applies the name of 
beast to a lion or a tiger ; and the name of bird to an eagle or a turkey, 
he speaks properly ; but whether a bat be a bird or a beast, he may be 
uncertain. If of a beast and of a bird there was any accurate defini- 
tion, of sufficient authority, he could be at no loss. And, strange as 
it may seem, legislators have seldom or never thought fit to give the 
definition of a man. 

Corol. A genus or species, being a collection of attributes, conceived 
to exist in one subject, a definition is therefore the only way to prevent 
any addition or diminution of its ingredients in the conception of 
different persons ; and when there is no definition that can be appealed 
to as a standard, the name will hardly retain precision in its sig 
nification. 

169. To conceive the meaning of a general word, and to con- 
ceive that which it signifies, is the sam thing. We conceive 



CHAP. VI. Of Abstraction, Ti 

distinctly the meaning of general terms, therefore we con- 
ceive distinctly that which they signify. But such terms do 
not signify any individual, but what is common to many in- 
dividuals ; therefore we have a distinct conception of things 
common to many individuals; — that is, we have distinct 
general conceptions. 

170. We must here beware of the ambiguity that is some- 
times thrown around the word conception in popular lan- 
guage, which sometimes makes it signify the act of the mind 
in conceiving, sometimes the thing conceived, which is the 
object of that act. When the word is taken in the first 
sense, every act of the mind is an individual act : the uni- 
versality, therefore, is not in the act of the mind, but in the 
object, or thing conceived. The thing conceived is an at- 
tribute common to many subjects, or it is a genus or a spe- 
cies common to many individuals. 

Illus. Suppose we conceive a triangle ; that is, a plane figure termi- 
nated by three right lines. He that understands this definition dis- 
tinctly, has a distinct conception of a triangle. But a triangle is not 
an individual ; it is a species. The act of my mind m conceiving it is 
an individual act, and has a real existence ; but the thing conceived is 
general, and cannot exist without other attributes, which are not in- 
cluded in the definition. Every triangle that really exists must have 
a certain length of sides and measure of angles; it must besides have 
place and time ; but the definition of a triangle includes neither exist- 
ence, nor any of those attributes ; and therefore they are not included 
in the conception of a triangle, which cannot be accurate if it compre- 
hended more than the definition. 

Corol. Thus it appears to be evident, that we have general concep- 
tions that are clear and distinct, both of attributes of things and of 
genera and species of things. 

III. Of general Conceptions formed by analyzing Objects. 

171. The operations of the mind, by which we are enabled 
to form general conceptions, appear to be three : 

First. The resolving or analyzing a subject into its 
known attributes, and giving a name to each attribute, which 
name shall signify that attribute, and nothing more. 

Secondly. The observing of one attribute, or more attri- 
butes than one, to be common to many objects. The first 
is by philosophers called abstraction; the second may be 
called generalizing; but both are commonly included under 
the name of abstraction. 

A third operation of the mind, by which we form abstract 
conceptions, is the combining into one whole a certain num- 
ber of those attributes of which we have formed abstract no- 



74 A Grammar of Logic. book il. 

tions, and giving a name to that combination. It is thus 
we form abstract notions of the genera and species of 

things. 

172. There is nothing with regard to abstraction, strictly 
so called, that is either difficult to be understood or prac- 
tised. 

nius. What can be more easy than to distinguish the different at- 
tributes which we know to belong to any subject? In a man, for in- 
stance, to distinguish his size, his complexion, his age, his fortune, his 
birth, his profession, and twenty other things that belong to him. To 
think and speak of those things with understanding, is surely within 
the reach of every man endowed with human faculties. 

173. There may be distinctions that require nice dis- 
cernment, or an acquaintance with the subject that is not 
common. 

Illus. Thus, a critic in painting may discern the style of Raphael or 
Titian, when another man could not. A lawyer may be acquainted 
with many distinctions in crimes, and contracts, and actions, which 
never entered the head of a man who has not studied law. One man 
may excel another in the talent of distinguishing, as he may in niemo- 
ry or in reasoning ; but there is a certain degree of this talent, without 
which a man could have no title to be considered a reasonable crea- 
ture, 

174. We may in our conception, with perfect ease, dis- 
tinguish and disjoin attributes, which cannot be actually 
separated in the subject. 

Illus. Thus, in a body, we can distinguish its soHdity from its ex- 
tension, and its weight from both. In extension, we can distinguish 
length, breadth, and thickness, yet none of these can be separated 
rom the body, or from one another. 

175. There may be attributes belonging to a subject, and 
inseparable from it, of which we have no knowledge, and 
consequently no conception; but this does not hinder us 
from conceiving distinctly those of its attributes which we 
do know. 

Illus. Thus, all the properties of a circle are inseparable from the 
nature of a circle, and may be demonstrated from its definition ; yet a 
man may have a perfectly distinct notion of a circle, who knows very 
few of those properties belonging to it which mathematicians have 
described ; and a circle has, probably, many properties which mathe- 
maticians never dreamed of. . i • 

C>rol It is therefore certain, that attributes, which, in their nature, 
are absolutely inse ^arable from their subject, and from one another, 
may be disjoined n our conception; one cannot exist without the 
other, but one can e conceived without the other 



CHAP. VI. Of Abstraction. 75 

IV. Of the Operation of Generalizing. 

176. We proceed now to consider the operation of gen- 
eralizing, which is nothing but the observing of one attri- 
bute, or more attributes than one, to be common to many 
subjects. 

lUus. There are many men above six feet high, and many below 
that height; many men are rich, many poor; many born in Britain, 
many born in France. But here, size, fortune, and country, are attri- 
butes. There are, therefore, innumerable attributes which are common 
to many individuals ; and if this be what the schoolmen called univer- 
sale a parte rei, we may affirm, with certainty, that there are such 
universals. 

177. There are some attributes expressed by general 
words, and of these, this position may seem more doubtful ; 
as, for instance, the qualities which are inherent in their sev- 
eral subjects. It may be said that every subject hath its 
own qualities, and that which is the quality of one subject 
cannot be the quality of another subject. 

Illus. 1. Thus, the whiteness of the sheet of paper that I write upon 
cannot be the whiteness of another sheet, though both are called white. 
The weight of one guinea is not the weight of another guinea, though 
both are said to have the same weight. 

2. To this we answer, that the whiteness of this sheet is one thing, 
whiteness is another ; the first signifies an individual quality really ex- 
isting, and is not a general conception, though it be an abstract one ; 
the second signifies a general conception, which implies no existence, 
but which, in the same sense, may be predicated of every thing that 
is white. 

3. On this account, if any one should say, that the whiteness of this 
sheet is the whiteness of another sheet, every one perceives this to 
be absurd; but when he says both sheets are white, this is true and 
perfectly understood. The conception of whiteness implies no exist- 
ence ; it would remain the same, though every thing in the universe 
that is white were annihilated. 

Corol. 1. It appears, therefore, that the general names of qualities, 
as well as of other attributes, are applicable to many individuals in 
the same sense, which cannot be if there be not general conceptions 
signified by such names. 

2. It appears further, that, since no individual can have a plural 
number {Art. 154. Illvs.), as soon as a child can say with understand- 
ing, that he has two brothers or two sisters ; as soon as he can use the 
plural number, so soon must he have general conceptions. 

178. As there are not two individuals in nature that agree 
in every thing, so there are very few that do not agree in 
some things. 

Illus. 1. We take pleasure, from our earliest years, in observing 
such agreements ; and one branch of what we call wit, which, when 
innocent, g' ves pleasure to every good mar consists in discovering 



*76 4 Grammar of Logic. ijooii ti. 

unexpected agreements in things. Thus, the author of Hudibras 
could discern a property common to the rworning and a boiled lobster^ 
which both turn from black to red. And Swift could see something 
common to wit and an old cheese. (See Art. 213. Illus.) 

2. Such agreements may show wit ; but there are innumerable 
agreements of things which cannot escape the notice of the lowest 
understanding; such as agreements in color, magnitude, figure, fea- 
tures, time, place, age, and so forth. And these agreements are the 
foundation of so many common attributes, which are found in the 
rudest languages. 

179. The ancient philosophers called those universals, or 
predicahles ^ and endeavored to reduce them to five classes : 
namely, genus, species, specific difference, properties, and 
accidents. 

180. The proneness of mankind to form general concep- 
tions, is seen from the case of metaphor and of the other fig- 
ures of speech, grounded on similitude. 

llliis. Similitude is nothing else but an agreement of the objects 
compared in one or more attributes ; and if there be no attribute com- 
mon to both, there can be no similitude. (See Book IV. of my Gram- 
mar of Rhetoric for a complete illustration of this matter.) 

181. Sometimes the name of an individual is given to a 
general conception, and thus the name of an individual, by 
being applied to his attributes, instead of his person, be- 
comes generalized. 

Ulus. 1. Thus, Shy lock, in the Merchant of Venice, says : 
A Daniel come to judgment ; yea, a Daniel ! 

In this speech a Daniel is an attribute, or an universal. 

2. And when we say of any eminent mathematician or astronomer, 
that ''he is a Newton^'' we generalize the name of the individual 
Newton; and it thus becomes an attribute or universal 

3. In the first example, the character of Daniel, as a man of singular 
wisdom; and in the second, that of Newton, as an eminent mathemati- 
cian or astronomer, is abstracted from his person, and considered as 
capable of being attributed to other persons. 

182. Upon the whole, these two operations of abstracting 
and generalizing, appear to be common to all men that have 
understanding. The practice of them is, and must be, fa- 
miliar to every man that uses language; but it is one thing 
to practise them, and another to explain how they are per- 
formed ; as it is one thing to see, and another to explain 
how we do see. 

Illus. Thus, when I consider a billiard ball, its color is one attri- 
bute^ which 1 signify by calling it lohite; its figure is another, which is 
signified by calling it spherical ; the firm cohesion of its parts is signi- 
fied by calling it hard ; its recoiling, when it strikes a hard body, is sig- 
nified by its being called elastic ; its origin, being part of the tooth of 



THAP. VI. Of Abstraction. 77 

an elephant^ is signified by calling it ivory ; and its use, by calling it a 
billiard hall. 

Cor of. The words whereby each of those attributes is signified, have 
distinct meanings, and under these meanings they are applicable to 
many individuals. They signify not any individual thing, but attributes 
common to many individuals ; and it is within the capacity of a child 
to understand them perfectly, and to apply them properly to every in- 
dividual in which they are found. 

V. General Conceptions formed by Combinations, 

183. As, by an intellectual analysis of objects, we form 
general conceptions of single attributes (which, of all con- 
ceptions that enter into the human mind, are the most 
simple), so, by combining several of these into one parcel, 
and giving a name to that combination, we form general con- 
ceptions that may be very complex, and at the same time 
very distinct. 

Illus. 1. Thus, one who, by analyzing extended objects, has got 
the simple notions of a point, a line — straight or curved — an angle, a 
surface, a solid, can easily conceive a plane surface terminated by four 
equal straight lines, meeting in four points at right angles To this 
species of figure he gives the name of a square. In like manner, he 
can conceive a solid terminated by six equal squares, and give it the 
name of a cube. A square, a cube, and every name of mathematical 
figure, is a general term, expressing a complex general conception, 
made by a certain combination of the simple elements into whicJi 
we analyze extended bodies. The definition contains the whole essence 
of the figure defined ; and every property that belongs to it may be 
deduced by demonstrative reasoning from the definition. It is not a 
thing that exists, for then it would be an individual ; but it is a thing 
that is conceived without regard to existence. 

2. A farm, a manor, a parish, a county, a kingdom, are complex 
general conceptions, formed by various combinations and modifications 
of inhabited territory, under certain forms of government. 

3. Diflferent combinations of military men form the notions of a 
company, a regiment, a brigade, an army. 

4. The several crimes which are the objects of criminal law, such 
as theft, murder, robbery, piracy, are only certain combinations of 
human actions defined in criminal law, and which it is found con- 
venient to apprehend under one name, and consider as one thing. 

184. When we observe that nature, in her animal, vegeta- 
ble, and inanimate productions, has formed many individuals 
that agree in many of their qualities and attributes, we are 
led by natural instinct to expect their agreement in other 
qualities, which we have not had occasion to perceive. 

Illus. Thus, a child, who has once burned his finger, by putting it in 
the flame of a candle, expects the same event to happen if he puts it 
6 



78 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

in the flame of another candle, or in any flame, and is thereby led to 
think that the quality of burning belon'gs to all flame. 

Obs. This instinctive induction is not justified by the rules of logic, 
and it sometimes leads us into harmless mistakes, which experience 
may afterwards correct ; but it preserves us from innumerable dangers 
to which we are exposed. 

185. We have noticed, in this place, this principle in hu- 
man nature, because the distribution of the productions of 
nature into genera and species becomes, on account of this 
principle, more generally useful. 

lUus. 1. The physician expects that the rhubarb which has never 
been tried will have the like medical virtues with that which he has 
prescribed on former occasions. Two parcels of rhubarb agree in 
certain sensible qualities, from which agreement they are both called 
by the same general name rhubarb. Therefore, it is expected that 
they will agree in their medical virtues. And as experience has dis- 
covered certain virtues in one parcel, or in many parcels, we presume, 
without experience, that the same virtues belong to all parcels of 
rhubarb that shall be used. 

2. If a traveller meets a horse, an ox, or a sheep, which he never 
saw before, he is under no apprehension, believing these animals to be 
of a species that is tame ; but he dreads a lion, a bear, or a tiger, be 
cause they are of a fierce and ravenous species. 

Corol. We have, therefore, a strong and rational inducement, both 
to distribute natural substances into classes, genera, and species, under 
general names ; and, moreover, to do this with all the accuracy anc' 
distinctness with which we are capable ; for the more accurate ou^ 
divisions are made, and the more distinctly the several species art 
defined, the more accurately we may rely, that the several qualities 
which we find in one individual, or in a few individuals, will be found 
in all the individuals of the same species. 

186. Every species of natural substances, which has a 
name in language, is an attribute of many individuals, and 
is itself a combination of more simple attributes, which we 
observe to be common to those individuals. And almost all 
the words of every language signify combinations of more 
simple general conceptions, which men have found proper 
to bind up, as it were, in one parcel, by being designated by 
one name. 

187. There are, however, some general conceptions, which 
may more properly be called compositions, or works of mere 
combination. 

Elus. 1. Thus^ one may conceive a machine which never existed. 
He may conceive an air in music, a poem, a plan of architecture, a 
constitution of government, a plan of conduct in private or in public 
life, a discourse, a tragedy, a comedy, a treatise on some science or 
art. Such compositions are things conceived in the mind of the 



ciiAi*. vi. Of Abstraction, 79 

author, not individuals that really exist ] and the same general con 
ception which the author had, maybe communicated to others by lan- 
guage. Thus, the Oceana of Harrington was conceived in the mind 
of its author. The materials of which it is composed, are things con- 
ceived, not things that existed. His senate, his popular assembly, his 
magistrates, his elections, are all conceptions of his mind, and the 
whole is one complex conception. And the same may be said of every 
work of the human understanding. 

2. The works of God, on the contrary, are works of creative power, 
not of understanding only. They have a real existence. Our con- 
ceptions of them are, however, partial and imperfect. But of the 
works of the human understanding our conception may be perfect and 
complete. They are nothing but what the author conceived, and what 
he can express by language, so as to convey his conception perfectly 
to men like himself. But these works of the huma^ understanding 
are the objects of judgment and taste, rather than of bare conception 
or simple apprehension. 

188. To return, therefore, to those complex conceptions, 
which are formed merely by combining others that are more 
simple, let us observe, that nature has given us the power of 
combining such simple attributes, and such a number of them, 
as we find proper ; and of giving one name to that combina- 
tion, and considering it as one object of thought. 

lllus. The simple attributes of things, which fall under our obser- 
vation, are not so numerous, that they might not all have names in a 
copious language ; but to give names to all the combinations that 
can be made of two, three, or more of those attributes, would be im- 
possible. The most copious languages have names but for a very 
small part of them. 

Corol. We conclude, therefore, that there are either certain common 
occurrences of human life, which dispose men, out of an infinite 
number that might be found, to form certain combinations rather than 
others. And nature, in a manner, points out those simple ideas which 
are most proper to be united into a complex one, not solely by the 
relations between simple ideas, of contiguity, causation, and resem- 
blance, but rather by the fitness of the combinations we make, to aid 
our own conceptions, and to convey them easily and agreeably to 
others by written or spoken language. 

189. The end and use of language lead men that have 
common understanding to form such complex notions as 
are proper for expressing their wants, their thoughts, their 
desires; and in every language we shall find these to be the 
complex notions that have names. 

lllus. 1. In the rudest languages, men must have occasion to form 
the general notions of man, woman, father, mother, son, daughter, 
sister, brother, neighbor, friend, enemy, and many others, to express 
the common relations of one person to another. 

2. If they are employed n hunting and jishingj they must have 



80 A Grammar of Logic, book ii. 

general terms to express the various operations of the chase, the stream, 
the lake, or the sea. Their houses and clothing will furnish another 
set of general terms, to express the materials, the workmanship, and 
the excellencies and defects of those fabrics. 

3. The arts of agriculture wad pasturage will give occasion to other 
general terms for communicating thoughts peculiar to those arts ; and 
the invention of those terms, as far as the shepherd or the farmer finds 
them necessary, requires no other talent but that degree of understand- 
ing which is common to men. 

4. With commerce have originated the notions of debtor and credit- 
or, of profit and loss, of account, balance, stock on hand, and many 
other terms equally general. 

5. To navigation are owing the notions of latitude, longitude, 
course, distance run, windward, leeward ; as well as those notions 
which we have of ships, and their various parts, furniture, and ope- 
rations. 

6. The anatomist has his names for the various similar and dissimilar 
parts of the human body, and words to express their figure, position, 
structure, and use. The physician must have names also for the 
various diseases of the body, their causes, symptoms, and the means 
of cure. 

7. The grammarian, the logician, the critic, the rhetorician, the 
moralist, the naturalist, the mechanic, and, in a word, every man that 
professes any art or science, must have general terms for expressing 
his sentiments in every branch of the knowledge he would communi- 
cate to others. 

190. Discoveries in nature, art, and science, give rise to 
xiQW combinations and new vi^ords, the invention of which is 
easy to those who have a distinct notion of the thing to be 
expressed ; and such words are readily adopted, and receive 
the public sanction, because the most necessary and useful 
arts are common property — because the important parts of 
human knowledge are common property ; and, among civil- 
ized nations, their several languages will be fitted to express 
these new complex notions and new names, which will spread 
as far as the invention or discovery becomes known. 

191. What is peculiar to a nation in its customs, manners, 
or laws, will give occasion to complex notions and words 
peculiar to the language of that nation. 

Illus. Hence it is easy to see why an impeachment and an attainder 
in the English language, and ostracism in the Greek language, have 
not names answering to them in other languages. 

Corol. Whence it would appear, that utility, not the associating 
qualities of ideas (Corot. Art. 18.), most frequently lead men to form 
only certain combinations, and to give names to them in language, 
while they neglect an infinite number that might be formed. 

192. The common occurrences of life, in the intercourse 
of men, and in their occupations, give occasion to many com- 
plex notions. 



CHAP. VI. Of Abstraction, 81 

Illus. 1. Thus men have formed the complex notions of eating, 
drinking, dressing, sleeping, walking, riding, running, buying, selling, 
ploughing, sowing, a dance, a fair, a feast, a wedding, a burial, war, 
a battle, victory, triumph, peace ; and other words without number. 

2. Such things must frequently be the subject of conversation ; and 
if we had not a more compendious way of expressing them than by a 
detail of all the simple notions which they comprehended, we should 
lose the benefit of speech ; for who, for example, to communicate the 
complex notion which the word war gives civilized men, would ever 
go about gravely to tell us, '' The consideration of safety leads to the 
invention of arms, and places of retreat. The earliest weapons were 
men's fists, then clubs, slings, and bows and arrows. To these suc- 
ceeded, in process of time, the spear and the sword, joined to the 
buckler and the shield ; fire-arms, called matchlocks, cannon, and then 
musketry and rockets. But the desire of retreats gave rise to fortifi- 
cation; and the art of war, in every age, must be accommodated to the 
species of arms, engines and methods of fortification in use." — Yet 
even this roundabout meaning of the complex notion we have of 
the general term war, hath not included companies, regiments, brig- 
ades, armies ; magazines of provisions, commissaries ; barracks, camps ; 
army contractors, army agents, army accoutrement makers ; a com- 
mander in chief, loans to government to carry on the war, and a 
thousand other terms, not one of which is simple, are all component 
parts of the complex notion which the experience of our own times 
gives us of that detestable word war. 

3. The different talents, dispositions, and habits of men in society, 
have in every language general names ; such as wise, foolish, know- 
ing, ignorant, proud, vain. 

4. In every operative art, the tools, instruments, materials, the work 
produced, and the various excellencies or defects of these, must have 
general names. 

5. Technical terms in the sciences make another class of general 
names of complex notions ; as in mathematics, axiom, definition, prob- 
lem, theorem, corollary, scholium, lemma. 

6. The various relations of persons and of things, which cannot 
escape the observation of men in society, lead them to many complex 
general notions; such as, father, brother, friend, enemy, master, ser- 
vant, property, theft, rebellion. 

7. In all the languages of mankind, not only the writings and dis- 
courses of the learned, but the conversation of the vulgar, is almost 
entirely made up of general words, which are the signs of general 
conceptions, either simple or complex. And in every language, we 
find the terms signifying complex notions to be such, and only such, as 
the use of language requires. 

193. A very large class of complex terms are those by 
which we name the species, genera, and tribes of natural 
substances. Utility leads to the adoption of these general 
names, and nature directs us in combining the attributes 
which are included under any specific name ; but in form- 
ing other combinations of mixed modes and relations, the 
6* 



82 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

actions or thoughts of men, or the occurrences of life, bring 
the ingredients t gether. 

Illus. We form a general notion of those attributes wherein many 
individuals agree. To this combination we give a specific name, 
which is common to all substances, having those attributes, which 
either do or may exist. The specific name comprehends neither more 
nor fewer attributes than we find proper to put into its definition. It 
comprehends not time, nor place, nor even existence, though there 
can be no individual without these. 

194. Without some general knowledge of the qualities of 
natural substances, human life would not be preserved. 
And there can be no general knowledge of this kind, without 
reducing them to species under specific names. 

Illus. For this reason, among the rudest nations, we find names for 
fire, water, earth, air, mountains, fountains, rivers ; for the kinds of 
vegetables which those nations use ; for the animals which they hunt 
or tame, or which are found useful or hurtful. Each of those names 
signifies, in general, a substance having a certain combination of attri- 
butes. The name must therefore be common to all substances in 
which those attributes are found. 

195. As the knowledge of nature advances, more species 
of natural substances are observed, and their useful qualities 
discovered. And in order that this important part of human 
knowledge may be communicated, and handed down to fu- 
ture generations, it is not sufficient that the species have 
names ; — the fluctuating state of language does not permit 
general names always to retain the same precise significa- 
tion ; — hence the necessity of definitions, in which men are 
disposed to acquiesce. 

Illus. 1. To give names and accurate definitions of all the known 
species of substances is necessary, in order to form a distinct language 
concerning them, and consequently to facilitate our knowledge re- 
specting them, and to convey it to future generations. 

2. Every species that is known to exist ought to have a name ; and 
that name ought to be defined by such attributes as serve best to dis- 
tinguish the species from all others. 

3. Nature invites to this work, by having formed things so as to 
make it both easy and important. 

For, first, We perceive numbers of individual substances so like 
in their obvious qualities, that the most unimproved tribes of men con- 
sider them as of one species, and give them one common name. 

Secondly. The more latent qualities of substances are generally the 
same in all the individuals of a species ; so that what, by observation 
or experiment, is found in a few individuals of a species, is presumed, 
and commonly found, to belong to the whole. By this we are enabled, 
from particular facts, to draw general conclusions. This kind of in- 
duction is indeed the master-key to the knowledge of nature, without 



CHAP. VI. Of Abstraction. 83 

winch we could form no general conclusions in that branch of phi- 
losophy. 

And, thirdly, By the very constitution of our nature, we are led, 
without reasoning, to ascribe to the whole species what we have 
found to belong to the individuals. It is thus we come to know that 
fire burns, and that water drowns ; that bodies gravitate, and that 
bread nourishes. 

196. The species of the animal and vegetable kingdoms 
seem to be fixed by nature, by the power which they have 
of producing their like. And in these, men, in all ages and 
nations, have accounted the parent and the progeny the same 
species. 

Ohs. 1. The differences observed by naturalists, with regard to the 
species of these two kingdoms, are termed varieties, and may be pro- 
duced by soil, climate, and culture, and sometimes by monstrous pro- 
ductions, which are, however, comparatively rare. 

2. In the inanimate kingdom things have been divided into species, 
though the limits of these species seem to be somewhat arbitrary ; 
but, from the progress already made, there is ground to hope, that 
even in this kingdom, as the knowledge of it advances, the various 
species may be so well distinguished and defined, as to answer every 
valuable purpose. 

197. When the species are so numerous as to burden 
the memory, it is greatly assisted by distributing them into 
genera ; the genera into tribes ; the tribes into orders ; and 
the orders into classes. Such a regular distribution of nat- 
ural substances, by divisions and subdivisions, has got the 
name of a system. 

Illus. 1. It is not, however, a system of truths, but a system of 
general terms with their definitions ; and it is not only a great help 
to the memory, but facilitates very much the definition of the terms. 
For the definition of the genus is common to all the species of that 
genus, and is so understood in the definition of each species, with- 
out the trouble of repetition. In li-ke manner the definition of a 
tribe is understood in the definition of every genus, and every 
species of that tribe ; and the same may be said of every superior 
division. 

2. The eflfect of such a systematical distribution of the productions 
of nature, is seen in our systems of zoology, botany, and mineralogy ; 
in which a species is accurately defined in a line or two, which, with- 
out this systematical arrangement, could hardly be defined in a 
page. 

3. The talent of arranging properly affords the strongest proof of 
genius, and is entitled to a high degree of praise. There is an intrin- 
sic beauty in arrangement; it captivates the mind and gives pleasure, 
even abstracting from its utility. The arrangement of an army drawn 
up for battle, is a grand spectacle ; the same number of men crowded 
together in a fair has no such effect. 

4. In order to remove all ambiguity in the names of diseases, ana 



84 A Grammar of Logic, book ii. 

to advance the healing art, very eminent medical men have now re- 
duced into a systematical order the diseases of the human body, and 
given distinct names, and accurate definitions, of the species, genera^ 
orders and classes, into vi^hich they distribute them. And in Paris 
there is now a professor of medicine, who, in lecturing to his students 
on cutaneous diseases, arranges the patients according to the classes 
or varieties of the disease, under trees when the weather will per- 
mit, on which a large placard is fixed to indicate the class or variety 
of the disease ; and when it is necessary for the professor to have a 
patient beside him, to afford ocular demonstration of the illustrations 
he is giving, in place of calling the patient by his Christian or surname, 
the professor calls him by the name of the class to which his disease 
belongs. Such improvements, like the invention of printing, serve 
to embalm a most important branch of human knowledge, and to pre- 
serve it from being corrupted or lost. 



CHAPTER VII. 

OF THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS, OR COMBINATION. 

198. Association, or the combination of ideas, is the 
faculty by which we connect objects together, according to 
various relations, essential or accidental, so that they are 
suggested to us, the one by the other. 

Obs. It is matter of the most familiar observation^ that we are apt 
to connect together the various objects of our thoughts according to 
some real or supposed relations which we observe among them ; so 
that they come afterwards to be suggested to the mind, the one by 
the other. By the faculty of abstraction we analyze individual 
objects, so as to make their various qualities and attributes separate 
subjects of our thoughts; by the faculty of combination, we form 
these objects into various classes, or groups, according to some observed 
resemblance among them, or we connect together certain individuals 
which have no real relation to one another, merely on account of some 
accidental circumstance which has occasioned them to be present to 
our thoughts at the same moment. Both faculties are eminently sub- 
servient to the advancement of our knowledge, and the progress of 
scientific investigation ', the object of which is, to ascertain those 
general laws, or first principles, according to which the phenomena 
of whole classes of beings are regulated. 

199. Association, or the combination of ideas, naturally 
divides itself into two parts; the first, as it relates to the 
influence of association, in regulating the succession of our 
thoughts ; the second, as it relates to its influence on the 
intellectual powers, and on the moral character, by the more 



CHAP. VII. Of the Association of Ideas. 85 

intimate and indissoluble combinations which it leads us to 
form in infancy and early youth. 

200. The influence of association in regulating the suc- 
cession of our thoughts, is a fact familiar to all men : that 
one thought is often suggested to the mind hy another ; and 
that the sight of an external object often recalls former oc- 
currences , and revives former feelings, are facts which have 
never been disputed by those who speculate least on the prin- 
ciples of their nature. 

Illus. 1. TravelHng along a road that we have formerly traversed 
with a friend, the particulars of the conversation in which we were 
then engaged are frequently suggested to us by the objects with 
which we meet. A field, a house, a plantation, a stream, will sug- 
gest the conversation, and the arguments which were discussed start 
like apparitions to our mind's eye, or recur spontaneously to the 
memory. 

2. On the same general law of our nature, are obvious the connec- 
tion formed in our mind between the different words of a language 
and the ideas they denote ; that between the different words of a dis- 
course we have committed to memory ; and that between the notes of 
a piece of music in the mind of the musician. 

201. The influence of perceptible objects, in reviving for- 
mer thoughts and former feelings, is peculiarly remarkable. 

Illus. '' Whilst we were at dinner," says Captain King, '^ in this 
miserable hut, on the banks of the river Awatska, the guests of a 
people with whose existence we had before been scarce acquainted, 
and at the extremity of the habitable globe, a solitary, half-worn pew- 
ter spoon, whose shape was familiar to us. attracted our attention ; 
and, on examining it, we found it stamped on the back with the word 
London. 1 cannot pass over this circumstance in silence, out of grati- 
tude for the many pleasant thoughts, the anxious hopes, and tender 
remembrances, it excited in us. Those who have experienced the 
effects that long absence and extreme distance from their native coun- 
try, produce on the mind, will readily conceive the pleasure such a 
trifling incident gave us." 

202. The relations in consequence of which assc>^aation 
takes place, are either essential or accidental. 

203. Among the essential relations, the most remarkable 
appear to be, 1. Resemblance; 2. Analogy ; 3. Contrariety ; 
4. Mutual Dependence ; as of cause and effect, premises and 
conclusion, means and end, and the like. 

204. The accidental relations, or the sources of associa- 
tion, seem chiefly reducible to the circumstance of the two 
objects of thought having been presented to the mind to- 
gether ; or from what the philosophers call the contiguity of 
time and place, in consequence of which we are led after- 



86 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

wards to think of them at the same time, and to conceive 
some real connection between them. 

I. Essential Relations^ Sources of Association. 

205. (i.) That resemblance is a natural species of rela- 
tion, and leads us to connect together the objects of our 
thoughts, is matter of the most familiar observation. 

Illus. It is our proneness to trace out this kind of relation, that 
leads us to give generic names to certain classes of objects ; such as 
animals, trees, stones, and other things that engage our attention. 
This was fully illustrated in the last chapter ; and so powerfully are we 
prompted to this exercise of our faculties, that we are in much greater 
danger of supposing resemblances between objects which are essen- 
tially different, than of not discovering a resemblance where it really 
exists. The gratification, however, which nature has attached to the 
exercise of this act of the mind, is of the greatest advantage in pro- 
moting our knowledge ; for by continually seeking to discover new 
points of likeness in the objects of nature, we are led to reduce them 
to a few simple classes, and to discover the general laws by which 
their phenomena are regulated. 

206. Many of the pleasures of taste may be ascribed to 
the gratification accompanying the discovery of resem- 
blance. 

Illus. Thus, in comedy, much of the pleasure of an audience arises 
from the resemblance they discover in the sentiment, the action, and 
the business of the piece, with what they have already heard, or seen, 
or engaged in themselves. 

207. The merit of wit appears to be justly placed in tra- 
cing remote and unexpected resemblances among the objects 
of our thoughts, which, from their novelty and singularity, 
are calculated to excite admiration. (See Art. 178. Illus. 1 
and 2.) 

Illus. Sublimity elevates, beauty charms, wit diverts : the first en- 
raptures and dilates the soul ; the second diffuses over it serene de- 
light; the third tickles the fancy, and throws the spirits into an agree- 
able vibration. And the limning of wit differs from rhetorical paint- 
ing in two respects : one is, that the latter requires not only a resem- 
blance in that particular on which the comparison is founded, but 
demands also a general similitude in the nature and quality of that 
which is the basis of the imagery, to that which is the theme of dis- 
course ; whereas the former, though requiring an exact likeness in 
the first particular, demands, in the second, a contrariety rather, or 
remoteness. Rhetorical painting, in respect of dignity, or the im- 
pression it would make upon the mind, brings together things ho- 
mogeneous; — thus, whatever has magnificence, must be portrayed 
by whatever is magnificent ; objects of importance by objects of 
importance ; such as have grace by things graceful. The limning of 
wit, like an enchantress, exults in reconciling contradictions, and in 
hitting on that special light and attitude vherein you can discover 



CHAP. VII. Of the Association of Ideas. 87 

an unexpected similarity in objects which, at first sight, appear the 
most dissimilar and heterogeneous : thus high and low are coupled, 
humble and superb, momentous and trivial, common and extraordi- 
nary. {Ex. Art. 222.) 

Corol. Wit, therefore, implies a power of calling up at pleasure 
the ideas which it combines, and the entertainment it affords is 
founded on the surprise it creates ; for a hon mot pleases more in 
conversation than in print, and premeditated wit never fails to disgust ; 
and he who sports a hon mot at the game of cross purposes doth not fail 
to create amusement; but, in such cases, our pleasure seems chiefly 
to arise from the surprise we feel at so extraordinary a coincidence 
between a question and an answer coming from persons who had no 
direct communication with each other. 

208. The pleasing effect of simile, poetical allusion, met- 
aphor, and allegory, also arises, in a great measure, from 
the same cause ; although, very generally, in all these cases, 
the principle of relation, or association, is rather reducible 
to analogy than to resemblance; as there is more room for 
ingenuity and the exercise of fancy, in tracing a similarity 
of effects or general consequences, which constitutes an 
analogy, than in discovering a mere likeness, or precise 
identity. 

Rlus. In the case of poetical imagination, it is the association of 
ideas that supplies the materials out of which the combinations are 
formed ; and when such an imaginary combination is become familiar 
to the mind, it is the association of ideas that connects its different 
parts together, and unites them into one whole. 

Corol. 1. The association of ideas, therefore, although perfectly 
distinct from the power of imagination, is immediately and essentially 
subservient to all its exertions. 

2. A man whose habits of association present to him a number of 
resembling or analogous ideas, for illustrating or embellishing a 
subject, we call a man of fancy : — it is therefore the province of 
fancy to collect materials for the imagination ; and, consequently, 
the latter power presupposes the former, while the former does not 
necessarily suppose the latter: — but for an effort of imagination, 
other powers are necessary, as of taste and of judgment, without 
which nothing can be produced that will be a source of pleasure to 
others. The power of fancy supplies the poet with metaphorical 
language, and with all the analogies which are the foundation of his 
allusions ; but it is the power of imagination that creates the com- 
plex scenes he describes, and the fictitious characters he delineates. 
Hence, to fancy we apply the epithets of rich and luxuriant ; to 
imagination, those of beautiful and sublime. 

209. Resemblance of sound is one pretty copious source 
of this kind of gratification. This resemblance is found in 
the structure of modern verse, which, in most European 
languages, has not only the accompaniment of rhythm, or a 
measured number of long and short, or emphatic and unem- 



c*.j A. Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

phatic syllables, but likewise that of rhyme, or a recurrence 
of resembling sounds at the termination of its lines. 

Obs. This accompaniment of verse was rejected by the poets of 
Greece and Rome, which seems to have arisen from its being con- 
sidered as of no value, on account of the great facihty with which it 
mig'lit have been accomphshed in the ancient languages. But 
rhyme, as I have sufficiently shown in my Grammar of Rhetoric, 
appears to have been adopted in the poetical compositions of our 
Gothic forefathers ; and it is likewise found in the poetry of various 
Eastern nations, as well as of the Indian tribes ; so that it is a source 
of gratification evidently founded in the natural constitution of 
man. 

210. The alliteration which is so common in poetry and 
proverbial sayings, seems to arise, partly, at least, from as- 
sociations of ideas founded on the accidental circumstance 
of two words which express them beginning with the same 
letter. 

Example 1. But thousands die, without or this or that. 
Die ; and endow a college, or a cat. 

Pope's Epist. 

2. Ward tried on puppies and the poor his drop. 

Id. Imit. of Horace. 

3. Puffs, powders, patches ; bibles, billetdoux. 

Rape of the Lock. 

211. The pun, or paronomasia, which hath been so gene- 
rally decried, and yet so universally practised, consists in 
nothing more than employing a word which is ambiguous 
either in sense or sound, and of which both the meanings 
are suggested at once, by the way in which it is used. It 
gratifies, therefore, as an example of a newly-discovered 
resemblance. 

Example. The French call this figure jeu de mots ; and the follow- 
ing examples are puns from Milton : "• Which tempted our attempt." 
Par. Lost, B. I. '^ To begin at the Almighty's throne, beseeching 
or besieging." B. V". 

Ohs. The gravity of that man is not to be envied who believes the 
assertion of Lord Chesterfield, that " genuine wit never made any 
man laugh since the creation of the world ;" — fiDr, banishing that 
noisy and convulsive agitation which is excited by the ludicrous, 
genuine wit (and there is none such without some mixture of hu- 
mor) does unquestionably create a smile of surprise and wonder, 
appropriated to its flashes. 

212. (ii.) Analogy is a copious source of combination 
among our thoughts. It may be defined a similarity, or 
correspondence, not of the objects of thoughts themselves, 
but of their general effects or consequences. (See Art, 74. 
and Illus.) 



CHAP. VII. Of the Association of Ideas. 89 

Illus. ThuSj the spring of the year, or the morning of the day, 
suggests to our thoughts the period of infancy, or youth ; as winter, 
or evening, is naturally associated with old age. The mind is prone 
to trace out analogies, which are, after all, but resemblances of a par- 
ticular kind ; and, in many cases, it may fancy them to exist without 
any real foundation. Of this we have the most remarkable example 
in the so generally conceived analogy between the properties of body 
and those of mind {Art. 83) ; the erroneousness of which we have 
already had occasion to remark. (Corol. Jlrt. 85.) 

213. The relations observable in the effusions of wit, in. 
poetical allusion, simile, metaphor, and allegory, belong 
rather to the combinations of analogy, than to those of re- 
semblance ; and in tracing the former there is much more 
ingenuity than in tracing the latter. 

lUus. Thus, the well-known similitude of Hudibras — 
'' And now, like lobster boil'd, the morn 
From black to red began to turn" — 
exhibits an analogy certainly very remote from common apprehen- 
sion. (See Art. 178. Illus. 1.) 

214. An allusion pleases by presenting a new and a beau- 
tiful image to the mind. The analogy or resemblance be- 
tween this image and the principal subject, is agreeable of 
itself, and is indeed necessary to furnish an apology for the 
transition which the writer makes, but the pleasure is won- 
derfully heightened, when the new image thus presented is 
a beautiful one. 

nius. The following allusion, from one of Home's tragedies, seems 
to unite every excellence : 

Hope and fear, alternate, sway'd his breast, 
Like light and shade upon a waving field. 
Coursing each other, when the flying clouds 
Now hide, and now reveal, the sun. 
Here the analogy is perfect ; not only between light and hope, and 
between darkness and fear, but between the rapid succession of 
light and shade, and the momentary impulses of these opposite emo- 
tions; while, at the same time, the new image which is presented 
to us, recalls one of the most pleasing ard impressive incidents in 
rural scenery ) namely, 

Light and shade upon a waving field. 
Coursing each other, when the Sying clouds 
Now hide, and now reveal, the sun. 

215. The discovery of such analogies has the twofold 
merit of embellishing and illustrating a subject ; and they 
are, therefore, with propriety, introduced, not only into the 
amusing kinds of composition, but also into those of the 
grave and didactic form. 

7 



90 A Grammar of Logic, book ii. 

Itlus. The following are happy instances of the effects of such welK 
chosen analogies, though the writings in which they occur are not 
professedly didactic 

Example 1. To endeavor to work upon the vulgar with fine 
sense, is like attempting to cut blocks of marble with a razor. — 
Pope. 

2. Did you ever observe one of your clerks cutting his paper with 
a blunt knife ? Did you ever know the knife to go the wrong way ^ 
Whereas, if you had used a razor or a penknife, you had odds against 
you of spoiling the whole sheet. — Swift. 

The dean very happily employs this allusion to illustrate the di- 
versity between genius and ordinary useful abilities. 

216. The pleasure we receive from analogy arises very 
much from the illustration which it affords of the author's 
ideas. 

Illus. Thus, Cicero, and after him Locke, in illustrating the diffi- 
culty of attending to the subjects of our consciousness, have com- 
pared the mind to the. e?/e, which sees every object around it, but is 
invisible to itself. To have compared the eye, in this respect, to 
the mind, would have been absurd. 

Again, Pope's comparison of the progress of youthful curiosity, in 
the pursuits of science, to that of a traveller among the Alps, owes 
all its beauLty to this — the Alps furnish only the illustration of the 
allusion, not the original subject. 

217. Allusions from material objects, both to the intel- 
lectual and the moral worlds, are found chiefly in compo- 
sitions written under the influence of some particular passion, 
or which are meant to express some peculiarity in the mind 
of the author. 

Ulus. Thus, a melancholy man, who has met with many misfor- 
tunes in life, will be apt to moralize on every physical event, and 
every appearance of nature ; because his attention dwells more 
habitually on human life and conduct than on the material objects 
around him. 

Example. This is the case with the banished duke, in Shakspeare'g 
'^ As you like it," who, in the language of the poet, 

'' Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing." 

But this is plainly a distempered state of mind ; and the allusions 
please, not so much from the analogies they present, as by the pic- 
ture they give of the character of the person to whom they have 
occurred. 

218. An analogy of the most remote kind, consisting 
merely in the general effect produced upon the mind, is ex- 
pressed in the following beautiful similitude of Ossian. 

Example. The music of (^arryl was like the memory of joys that 
are past: pleasant and mournful to the soul. 



CHAP. VII Of the Association of Ideas. irf 

219. (ill.) Contrariety, or contrast, is also o commoii 
source of combination among our ideas. 

lUus. 1. Thus, the darkness of night induces us to think of the 
splendor of day ; and winter's cold turns our thoughts to the heat 
of summer. 

2. It was contrariety that associated in the mind of Xerxes the 
melancholy idea of mortality and dissolution, with the prospect of 
his millions in the pride of activity and military splendor, when he 
lamented that, in a short period of time, not one of them would be 
found upon the earth. 

220. The associating principle of contrast is calculated to 
suggest the finest poetical transitions. 

Illus. 1. Thus, in Goldsmith's Traveller, the transitions are man- 
aged with consummate skill ; and yet how different from that logical 
method which would be suited to a philosophical discourse on the 
state of society in the different parts of Europe ! Thus, after de- 
scribing the effeminate and debased Romans, the poet proceeds to 
the Swiss : — 

My soul, turn from them — turn we to survey 
Where rougher climes a nobler race display. 

And, after painting some defects in the manners of this gallant but 
unrefined people, his thoughts are led to those of the French : — 

To kinder skies, where gentler manners reign, 
I turn — and France displays her bright domain. 

2. The transition which occurs in the following lines, seems to be 
suggested by the accidental mention of a word ; and is certainly c le 
of the happiest in our language : — 

Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old ! 
Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ! 
War in each breast, and freedom on each brow. 
How much unlike the sons of Britain now ! — 

Fired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing. 

And flies where Britain courts the western spring. 

221. This bias of the mind for contrast, in its association 
of ideas, is likewise eminently conducive to the advance- 
ment of our knowledge ; for it leads us to inquire in what 
respects the various objects of nature differ from one anoth- 
er, as well as wherein they agree ; and thus stimulates us to 
acquire an accurate knowledge of their properties. 

Kote. The student may refer back to the illustrations of ^?'^jc/e5 
164, 166, and 168, which, though illustrative of general conceptions, 
stimulate us to acquire an accurate knowledge of the properties or 
attributes of nature that differ from one another, or agree in genera' 
and characteristic particulars. 

222. The relation of contrariety enters pretty largely into 
the allusions of wit, in conjunction with those of resemblance 



92 A Grammar of Logic. boc k il 

or analogy ; for this obvious reason, that the combinations 
of wit must not be readily discoverable ; in other words, 
they must partake both of resemblance, or analogy, and of 
contrariety. 

Jllus. That species of wit which constitutes the ludicrous, exhib- 
its a due share of this mixture of resemblance and contrast ; for, 
according to the most legitimate analysis of the ludicrous, it con- 
sists in a mixture of relation and contrariety ; or of incongruity in 
the parts of an object, or assemblage of related objects. (Illus. 
Art. 207.) 

Example. In the following spirited similitude of Pope, the parent 
of the celestials is contrasted by the daughter of night and chaos ; 
heaven by Grub-street ; gods by dunces ; and, besides, the parody 
which it contains on a beautiful passage of Virgil, adds particular 
lustre to this aggrandizement of little things, or mock majestic. 

As Berecynthia, while her offspring vie 

In homage to the mother of the sky. 

Surveys around her, in the blest abode, 

An hundred sons, and every son a god,* 

Not with less glory mighty Dulness crowned 

Shall take through Grub-street her triumphant round, 

And, her Parnassus glancing o'er at once. 

Behold an hundred sons, and each a dunce. 

223. (iv.) Mutual dependence is the fourth natura 
source of connection among the objects of our thoughts 
which we enumerated. If we find one occurrence or phe- 
nomenon constantly succeeded by another, it is extremely 
natural that the one should be suggested by the other to 
our minds. On the same principle, the notion of means 
employed, suggests the end which they are designed to 
accomplish. 

lilus. 1. Thus, when we observe the labors of the husbandman, 
we naturally think of the harvest that is to ensue ; and the study of 
an argument, or a piece of reasonings leads to the consideration of the 
conclusion or conviction which it tends to produce. 

2. To this source of combination we, in a great measure, owe 
our desire to discover the hidden causes of the phenomena of na- 
ture, or the established dependence which these have upon one 
another. The philosopher accomplishes this by long- and patient 
study of nature herself; but the illiterate are sufficient_y ready to 
assign causes for whatever they see, though experience tells them 



Tlie passage in Virgil is this : 

Felix prole virum, qiiaiis iJerecyiithia mater 
Invehitur curru Phrygias turritu per urbes, 
Lseta denm partu, centum complexa nepotes^ 
Omnes coelicolas, omnes supera alta tenentes. 

^NEIDOS. 



CHAP. VII. Of the Association of Ideas. 93 

that their want of knowledge is a copious source of error in this field 
of speculation. And to this ignorance of the real dependence of 
events upon each other, and a proneness to admit a connection where 
none really exists, must we ascribe the many superstitious obser- 
vances which prevail among the vulgar, and still more among savage 
nations. 

II. Accidtntal Relations, or Sources of Association. 

224. We not only connect the objects of our thoughts to- 
gether according to those essential and natural relations 
which we observe among them, but also in consequence 
of the mere accidental circumstances of their having been 
presented to the mind together. [Art. 204.) 

Illus. " We agreed," says Cicero, in the introduction to the fifth 
book de Jinibus, '* that we should take our afternoon's walk in the 
academy, as, at that time of the day, it was a place where there was 
no sort of company. Accordingly, at the hour appointed, we went to 
Piso's. We passed the time in conversing on different matters during 
our short walk from the double gate, till we came to the academy, that 
justly celebrated spot; which, as we wished, we found in perfect soli- 
tude. I know not, said Piso, whether it be a natural feeling, or an 
illusion of the imagination founded on habit, that we are more power- 
fully affected by the sight of those places which have been much fre- 
quented bj^ illustrious men, than when we either listen to the recital, 
or read the detail, of their great actions. At this moment I feel that 
emotion which I speak of I see before me the perfect form of Plato, 
who was wont to dispute in this very place ; these gardens not only 
recall him to riny memory, but present his very person to my senses. 1 
fancy to myself that here stood Speusippus ; there Xenocrates, and 
here, on this bench, sat his disciple Polemo. To me, our wdcieni senate- 
house seems peopled with the like visionary forms ; for, often, when I 
enter it, the shades of Scipio, of Cato, and of Laelius, and, in particu- 
lar, of my venerable grandfather, rise to my imagination. In short, 
such is the effect of local situation in recalling associated ideas to the 
mind, that it is not without reason, some philosophers have founded 
on this principle a species of artificial memory " 

Ohs. The student will please to observe, that the foregoing illus- 
tration shows clearly the difference, also, between the effect of 
a perception and an idea, in awakening associated thoughts and feel- 
ings. 

225. This law of association is manifestly of the greatest 
utility in promoting the exercise of memory ; and, indeed, 
spontaneous or involuntary memory seems entirely to de- 
pend on those associations which the mind has previously 
formed, whether according to natural or accidental rela- 
tions. 

Illus. After time has in some degree reconciled us to the death of 
a friend, how wonderfully are we affected the first time we enter 
the house where he lived ! — Every thing we see ; the apartmeat where 

7* 



94 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

he studied ; the chair upon which he sat, recall to us the happiness 
which we have enjoyed together ; and we should feel a sort of viola- 
tion of that respect we owe to his memory, to engage in any light or 
indifferent discourse when such objects are before us. '^ That man," 
eays Dr. Johnson, '•' is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not 
gain force on the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow 
warmer among the ruins of lona." 

226. On account of their unlimited range, the accidental 
or merely arbitrary combinations are extensively useful to 
the memory ; and what is called mechanical artificial mem- 
ory is founded entirely upon these co binatioi s. (See 
Illus, Art, 224.) 

Illus. It is, in general, a merely arbitrary relation that subsists be- 
tween the sign and the thing signified ; as between the letters of the 
alphabet and the sounds of which they are expressive ; as well as be- 
tween these sounds, or the various words of a language, a,nd the 
thoughts which they are intended to denote. Thus, the whole fabric 
of language, whether oral or written, rests upon that law of the hu- 
man constitution, whereby things, which are repeatedly presented to 
the mind together, are afterwards suggested, the one by the other. The 
same may be said of the symbols of the algebraist; the notes of the 
musician ; and various other like signs. 

227. Associations, which are merely arbitrary, appear to 
operate upon the mind with fully as much power as those 
which are founded in nature. 

Illus. The well-known effect of the national air, called ^' Rans des 
Vaches," upon the Swiss regiments in foreign lands, in exciting 
what is emphatically called the maladie dn pays, furnishes a very 
striking illustration of the peculiar power of a perception, or of an 
impression on the senses, to awaken associated thoughts and feelings. 
And I cannot here omit to mention an anecdote of my late vener- 
able and worthy friend Adam Callendar, who in his younger days 
had served as an officer in India. A Highland regiment had been 
ordered up the country, and on the parade, the bag-piper played the 
famous air of ^' Lochaher no more." The effect was not anticipated 
even by the piper. The sensibilities of his companions were awaken- 
ed, and the very men who could rush upon death in all the forms of 
battle, refused to go, as they thought, further from home ; and the 
governor-general had too much good sense to call this maladie du pays 
by the ungracious name of mutiny. In the Peninsula, during the 
late war, the piper of a Highland regiment was struck in the leg 
with a bullet, and could not stand ; yet, regardless of his wound, did 
he seat himself on his knapsack, and cheer his comrades to the charge 
with the martial tune of '' Up and War them a' Willie." It would 
be an insult to this brave man's virtues to inquire, whether he had 
associated the idea of victory with his ^' spirit-stirring lay." (See Rlus. 
Art. 142.) 

228. The consequences of these arbitrary associations 
are sometimes exceedingly whimsical ; of which Locke re- 
cords two remarkable in&tunces. 



CHAP. vTi. Of the Association of Ideas. 95 

Illus. 1. The first is, of a person perfectly cured of madness, by a 
very harsh and offensive operation. The gentleman, who was thus 
recovered, with great sense of gratitude and acknowledgment, own.ed 
the cure, all his life after, as the greatest obligation he could have re- 
ceived ; but, whatever gratitude and reason suggested to him, he 
could never bear the sight of the operator. This has an illustrious 
parallel ! to which it is sufficient to allude. 

2. The second instance is of a young gentleman, who having 
learned to dance, and that to great perfection, but there happened to 
stand an old trunk in the room where he learned, and the idea of this 
remarkable piece of household stuff had so mixed itself with the turns 
and steps of his dances, that though in that chamber he could dance 
excellently well, yet it was only while the trunk was there ; nor could 
he perform well in any other place, unless that, or some such other 
trunk, had its due position in the room. 

229. The facility with which ideas are associated in the 
mind, is very different in different individuals ; a circum- 
stance this, which lays the foundation of remarkable varie- 
ties among men, both in respect of genius and character. 
In the female mind, ideas seem to be more easily associated 
together than in the minds of men. 

Corol. Hence the liveliness of their fancy, and the superiority 
they possess in epistolary writing, and in those kinds of poetry, in 
which the principal recommendations are, ease of thought and ease of 
expression, deUcacy of sentiment and acuteness of feehng. Hence, 
too, the facility with which they contract or lose habits, and accom- 
modate their minds to new situations. Hence, too, the disposition 
they have to that species of superstition which is founded on acci- 
dental combinations and circumstances. 

Example. '' I remember," says Dr. Reid, " many years ago, a 
white ox was brought into the country, of so enormous a size, that 
people came many miles to see him. There happened, some months 
after, an uncommon fatahty among women in child-bearing. Two 
such uncomrnon events following one another, gave a suspicion of 
their connection, and occasioned a common opinion, among the coun- 
try people, that the white ox was the cause of this fatality." 

Obs. How silly and ridiculous soever this opinion was, it spruno- 
from the same root in human nature, on which all natural philosophy 
grows, namely, an eager desire to find out connections in things, and 
a natural, original, and unaccountable propensity to believe, that the 
connections which we have observed in time past, will continue in 
time to come. 

230. To the law of our constitution, which induces us to 
form arbitrary connections among the objects of our thoughts, 
are due many of the errors and prejudices of the human 
mmd in the judgments and decisions of the moral faculty. 

. *^?^^- . The importance of this subject is therefore sufficient to 
justify Its separate illust ation, which will form die subject of the 
next section. 



96 A Grammar of Logic. book u. 

III. Of the Influence of Association on our various Judg- 

ments. 

231 . The influence of arbitrary association in giving a 
bias to our opinions and judgments, appears to divide itself 
into three heads : 

First, As \t affects the decisions of Taste. 
Secondly, As it affects the speculative Opinions of man- 
kind. 

Thirdly, As it influences our moral Judgments. 

First, as it affects the Decisions of Taste. 

232. To the influence of association in regulating the 
decisions of taste, is to be ascribed the approbation which 
we bestow upon the dress, pronunciation, language, and 
manners of the great and the fashionable. 

nius. 1. It is not any intrinsic excellence in the mode itself that 
causes our approbation, because when it ceases to be the fashion, 
we cease to approve it, and bestow our approbation on some other 
mode that now comes to be sanctioned by the adoption of the great. 

2. The pronunciation or language of the court may frequently be 
inferior, in real merit, to that of the provinces ; but the latter is held 
disreputable, because associated with the ideas of coarseness and vul- 
garity, while the former is considered reputable on account of the 
contrary association. (See my Grammar of Rhetoric, Book II., in 
which the nature and character of the use ^which gives law to lan- 
guage is fully examined.) 

Corol. Thus, the cause of our approbation of whatever is called 
fashionable, is to be sought in the principle of association alone. 

233. The effect of arbitrary association in matters of 
taste, is still more strongly evinced in the permanent char- 
acter which it frequently gives to the taste of a nation. 

Illus. 1. Thus, the Chinese love a foot, in their women, so small 
as to be scarcely of any use in walking, for no other reason than 
this — they have associated with a small foot the notion of delicacy and 
elegance ; while they despise a foot of the just proportions which na- 
ture gives it, because, in their minds, it is associated with mean and 
vulgar qualities. 

2. The same principle serves to explain why, in Holland, France, 
and indeed in most parts of the world, a style of gardening prevails, 
which the letter taste of Englishmen condemns as stiff and unnat- 
ural. In those countries, the efforts of skill, artifice, and labor, have 
become associated with a garden. In Holland, the more visible the 
exertion of these is rendered, the more admirable, the more beauti- 
ful, nay. perfect, is the work rendered. At Versailles, Frenchmen 
are delighted with the profusion of parterres, terraces, alleys, foun- 
tains, statues, formal shrubs, artificial cascades, and grottoes, trees 
whose foliage is clipped into many fantastic shapes, and hedges 



CHAP. VII. Of the Association of Ideas. 97 

dressed laterally and altitudinally, like to so many regiments of rifle- 
men on parade. 

234. The influence of arbitrary association is also mani- 
fested in the high vahie that we set upon the compositions 
with which we have been familiarized in early youth. 

Illus, These are connected, in our minds, with a variety of plea- 
sing occurrences which have happened at that period ; and, there- 
fore, acquire a value in our estimation, which they do not intrinsi- 
cally possess. Thus Addison himself, though so acute a critic, under 
the bias of this natural prepossession, could find every beauty of 
Homer or Virgil in the ancient ballad of Chevy Chase, of which, un- 
doubtedly, the principal merit is a native and unadorned simplicity. 
(See Spectator, Nos. 70 and 74.) 

235. It is upon a similar principle, that the compositions 
of celebrated authors come to be considered as perfect mod- 
els of imitation ; and their very defects are exalted into 
beauties, on account of their being so closely combined 
with those parts of their works which are justly entitled to 
our admiration. 

Illus. Few things have tended more to retard the progress of genu- 
ine taste, than this superstitious veneration for great names. In this 
way the dictates of nature have been made to yield to authority ; and 
the practice of an eminent writer has passed into a law, which none 
violates with impunity. Hence the necessity that some literary men 
have conceived themselves under, of choosing models on which to 
form their style and sentiment, as much so as the architect, who 
would build a magnificent palace, follows the Grecian or Roman style 
of his art ; or as a painter selects for his study the best masters of the 
Flemish, the Italian, or the French schools. Bossu, a celebrated 
French critic, can find no better foundation for the numerous rules 
which he has given, than the practice of Homer or Virgil, supported 
by the authority of Aristotle. ^^ Strange," says Lord Kaimes, " that 
in so long a work, the concordance or disconcordance of these rules 
with human nature, should never once have entered his thoughts." 

Carol. The decisions of the faculty of taste have their foundation 
in the original constitution of man ; and, as science diffuses her genial 
influence, the standard of true taste comes gradually to be ascer- 
tained ; therefore, the cultivation of philosophical criticism must pro- 
gressively dissipate the prejudices which are so apt to warp our 
decisions in matters of taste, and correct the influence of arbitrary 
association. 

Secondly, as it affects the speculative Opinions of 3IanJcind, 

236. Casual association unduly influences many of our 
speculative opinions and conclusions of reasoning. 

Illus. The association of ideas, says Mr. Stewart, has a tendency 
to warp oui speculative opinions chiefly in the three following 
ways. 



98 A Grammar of Logic. boor it. 

Firstf by blending together in our apprehensions things which are 
really distinct in their nature, so as to introduce perplexity and error 
into every process of reasoning in which they are involved. 

Secondly, by misleading us in those anticipations of the future from 
the past, which our constitution disposes us to form, and which are 
the great foundation of our conduct in life. 

Thirdly, by connecting in the mind erroneous opinions with truths 
which irresistibly command our assent, and which we feel to be of 
importance to human happiness. 

237. First. The association of ideas has a tendency to 
warp our speculative opinions, by blending together in our 
apprehensions things which are really distinct in their na- 
ture, so as to introduce perplexity and error into every pro- 
cess of reasoning in which they are involved. 

Illus. 1. This branch of the subject embraces our notions of color 
and extension. The former of these words expresses that which is the 
cause of a seyisation in the mind ; the latter denotes a quality of an ex- 
ternal object ; so that there is, in fact, no more connection between 
the two notions than betw^een those of pain and solidity ; and yet, in 
consequence of our always perceiving extension, at the same time 
at which the sensation of color is excited in the mind, as when we 
look upon an extended verdant plain, we find it impossible afterwards 
to think of that sensation, without conceiving extension along 
with it. 

2. Another intimate association is formed in every mind between 
the ideas of space and time. When we think of an Interval of dura- 
tion, we always conceive it analogous to a line, and we apply the 
same language to both subjects. Hence the terms long and short 
time, as well as long and short distance. Now, this apprehended anal- 
ogy is obviously founded on the association between the ideas of 
space and time, arising from our always measuring the one by the 
other. 

Example. We measure time by motion, and motion by extension. 
In an hour, the hand of the clock moves over a certain space ; in two 
hours, over double the space; and so on. Hence the ideas of space 
and time become intimately united, and we apply to the latter the 
words long and short, before and after, in the same manner as to the 
former. 

Illus. 3. From an accidental association of ideas arises also the 
apprehended analogy between the relation which the different notes 
in the scale of music bear to each other ; and from a similar apprehend- 
ed analogy arises the relation of superiority and inferiority, in point 
of position, among material objects, 

Corol. In the instances which have now been mentioned, our habits 
of combining the notions of two things become so strong, that we 
find it impossible to think of the one without thinking, at the same 
time, of the other. Hence we may easily conceive the manner in 
which the association of ideas has a tendency to mislead the judg- 
ment, except the mind be accustomed to those discriminations which 
science requires, and which will not suffer it to be imposed on by that 
confusion of ideas which warps the judgments of the multitude in 
niDral, religious, and political inquiries. 



OHAP. VII. Of the Association of Ideas, 99 

238. Secondly. The association of ideas is a source of 
speculative error, by misleading us iii those anticipations 
of the future from the past, which are the foundation of our 
conduct in life. 

Illus. 1. The great object of philosophy is to ascertain the laws which 
regulate the succession of events both in the physical and in the 
moral worlds ; in order that, when called upon to act in any particular 
combination of circumstances, we may be enabled to anticipate the 
probable course of nature from our past experience, and to regulate 
our conduct accordingly. Nature has not only given all men a strong 
disposition to remark, with attention and curiosity, those phenomena 
which have been observed to happen nearly at the same time, but 
has beautifully adapted, to the uniformity of her own operations, the 
laws of association in the human mind. By rendering contiguity in 
time one of our associating principles, she has conjoined together in 
our thoughts the same events which we have found conjoined in 
our experience, and has thus accommodated (without any effort on 
our part) the order of our ideas to that scene in which we are des- 
tined to act. 

2. The laws of nature, which it is most material for us to know, 
are exposed to the immediate observation of our senses ; and establish, 
by means of the principle of association, a corresponding order in our 
thoughts long before the dawn of reason or reflection. 

3. This bias of the mind to associate events which have been present- 
ed to it nearly at the same time, is, nevertheless, with all its boasted 
advantages, attended with inconveniences ; for among the various 
phenomena which are continually passing before us, there is a great 
proportion whose vicinity in time does not indicate a constancy of 
conjunction ; and they who do not distinguish between these two 
classes of connections, will become a prey to that superstitious dis- 
position which confounds together accidental and permanent connec- 
tions. Hence the regard which is paid to unlucky days, to unlucky 
colors, and to the influence of the planets. 

Example. An Indian once found himself relieved of a bodily indis- 
position by a draught of cold water. This man was a second time 
afflicted with the same disorder, and was desirous to repeat the same 
remedy. He applied to a philosopher to be informed whether the 
cure was owing to the water which he had drank, to the shell 
in which it was contained, to the fountain from which it was taken, 
to the particular time of the day, or to the particular age of the 
moon. The philosopher smiled at the Indian's simplicity. A juggler, 
who was by at the time, overhearing what passed, looked gravely at 
the sick man, and, with as much pomposity, bade him repeat the ex- 
periment. In order, therefore, to ensure the success of the remedy, 
the Indian very naturally and very wisely copied, as far as he could 
recollect, every circumstance which accompanied the first application 
of the water. He made use of the same kind of shell, he drew the 
water from the same fountain, he held his body in the same posture, 
and he turned his face to the same point of the horizon. He recov- 
ered a second time. At the time of the second experiment, and ever 
after, all the accidental circumstances in which the first experiment 
was made, were associated equally, with the effect produced, in th^ 



100 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

Indian and in the juggler's mind. The fame of the cure was spread 
far and wide. The fountain from which the water was drawn was 
ever after considered as possessed of particular virtues, the shell from 
which it was drank was set apart from vulgar uses, the day on 
which the experiment was made received a new name, and was 
deemed lucky ; the posture of the body, and the point of the hori- 
zon in which the face was held, were also accounted iucky, for the 
sake of those who might afterwards have occasion to apply the 
remedy. 

Carol. 1. Here, then, is the source of one species of superstition due 
to the influence of association ; and it sufficiently proves how mankind 
are misled in those anticipations of the future from the past, which 
are the foundation of their conduct in life. 

2. The reasonings we have now used may be extended also to anal- 
ogous prejudices which warp our opinions respecting the customs 
and manners of our country ; the form and exercise of its govern- 
ment; the execution of its laws, and the administration of justice ; 
our manner of life and course of education ; but weakness and versa- 
tility of mind, and the same facility of association we have contempla- 
ted in the Indian, are sources of national prejudice and national big- 
otry, among enlightened Europeans. 

239. Thirdly. We have now to consider the third class 
of our speculative errors, arising from the association of ideas 
connecting in the mind erroneous opinions, with truths 
which irresistibly command our assent, and which we feel to 
be of importance to our happiness. 

Illus. We have seen how all the different circumstances which ac- 
companied the first administration of a remedy, come to be considered 
as essential to its future success, and are blended together in the con- 
ceptions of the mind, without any discrimination of their relative im- 
portance ; and we shall now show, that whatever tenets and religious 
ceremonies men have been taught to connect with the religious creed 
of their infancy, become almost a part of their constitution, by being 
indissolubly united with truths which are essential to their happiness, 
and which they are led to reverence and to love with all the best dis- 
positions of the heart. 

Example. A young English officer had saved the life of a Brah- 
min's daughter. The Brahmin grew old and fell sick. On his death- 
bed he exclaimed to the officer, '• Is it possible that he to whose com- 
passion I owe the preservation of my child, and who now soothes my 
last moments with the consolations of piety, should not believe in the 
god Vistnou, and his nine metamorphoses ! " 

Here we have all the evidence the thing admits of, that the aston- 
ishment of the learned and venerable Brahmin was of a piece with 
what the rudest of mankind feel when they see the rites of a religion 
different from their own The Brahmin seemed to question whether 
there could be any thing worthy in the mind which treated with in- 
difference what awakened in his own breast all its best and sublimest 
emotions. The peasant views the rites of a religion different from 
that ir which he was educated, with an astonishment as great as if he 



CHAP. VII. Of the Association of Ideas. 101 

saw some flagrant breach of the moral duties, or some direct act of 
impiety to God. 

Corol. What has now been said on the nature of rehgious supersti- 
tion, may be applied to many other subjects; and in particular to 
those political prejudices which bias the j udgment even of enlightened 
men in all countries of the world. And with this remark we may 
therefore conclude here, that as, in ancient Rome, it was regarded as 
the mark of a good citizen never to despair of the fortunes of the re- 
public ; — so the good citizen of the world, the philosopher, and the 
Christian, whatever may be the political, the scientific, and the religious 
aspect of their own times, will never despair of the fortunes of the 
human race ; but will act upon tlje conviction that prejudice, slavery, 
and corruption — ignorance, error, and speculative mysticism — irreli- 
gion, vice, and impiety — must gradually give way to truth, liberty, 
and virtue ; to knowledge, good sense, and happiness ; to piety, charity, 
and benevolence. 

Thirdly, of the Influence of arbitrary Associations, as it 
affects our moral Judgment. 

240. Our moral judgments may be modified and even 
perverted to a certain degree, in consequence of the influ- 
ence of arbitrary associations ; for there is a fashion, not only 
in matters of taste and speculative inquiry, but even in mo- 
rality and religion. 

Illus. In the same manner in which a person who is regarded as a 
model of taste, may introduce, by his example, an absurd or fantasti- 
cal dress, so a man of splendid virtues may attract some esteem also 
to his imperfections ; and, if placed in a conspicuous situation, may 
render his vices and follies objects of general imitation among the 
multitude. What a libel on human reason ! to be ever swayed by the 
mere influence of casual association, and the false shame of avowing 
ourselves habitually the friends of virtue, because knaves have nick- 
named such tergiversations marks of superior endowments, and 
proofs of a mind emancipated from vulgar prejudices. (See Dr. 
Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments, for the most luminous views of 
this part of our subject.) 

241. Again, if we examine the moral and religious opin- 
ions which have prevailed in different ages of the world, and 
among people of different climates and nations, we shall find 
a striking diversity in many important particulars. 

Illv^. 1. The ancient heathen and the modern savage enjoin us, 
while we do all the good we can to our friends, to be equally studious 
to injure our enemies. The milder precepts of Christianity, on the 
other hand, exhort us to an unlimited forgiveness of injuries. Among 
the Romans, suicide was a virtue ; among Christians, it is a crime of 
the deepest dye. The South Sea Islanders, and the ancient Lace- 
demonians, practised theft without scruple ; while, by the laws o/ 
EuroT)e it is punished with imprisonment, banishment, and death 

8 



102 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

2. The heathen and the savage combine the ideas of valor and 
heroism with the revenge of injuries and the destruction of their 
enemies ; and hence deem such conduct as praiseworthy, as gratitude 
for benefits received. But the more enlightened Christian discerns 
true magnanimity in the forgiveness of injuries ; and justly accounts 
it a greater act of heroism to return good for evil, than to satisfy the 
impulse of his vengeance. The heathen looks upon suicide as an 
heroic act ; the better instruction of the Christian leads him to <ionsid- 
er it as a proof of timidity, as well as a highly culpable renunciation 
of the control of the supreme power. This diversity of opinion 
proves the extensive influence of the principle of association, which, 
however it may bias, can never totaiiy subvert the power of the mora! 
sense. (See Chapter XII. of this Book.) 

3. With respect to the practice of theft, so prevalent among certain 
tribes, it may be remarked, that in those countries where it has pre- 
vailed, property has been considered as of little or no value. In the 
South Sea Islands, the spontaneous bounty of nature renders hoarding 
almost superfluous ; and, in ancient Sparta, the accumulation of prop- 
erty was positively prohibited. In this latter country, too, it was 
merely the display of skill that sanctioned the theft ; for detection was 
sure to cover the perpetrator with indelible disgrace. 

Corol. Thus, it appears, that. the diversities which are discovered 
in the moral sentiments of mankind, arise from known laws of the 
human constitution. The basis on which these moral sentiments are 
founded is immutable ; but they may be variously modified, according 
to circumstances peculiar to the individual. It is thus that the lan- 
guage of diiferent tribes assumes a particular character and idiom, ac- 
cording to the peculiar circumstances of their situation ; but the funda- 
mental principles of grammar continue radically the same in all dia- 
lects. (IJlus. 1, 2. and Corol. Jirt. 62.) 

Mote. The power of association or combination, in regulating the 
succession of our ideas, and in directing the transition from one object 
of thought to another, will be examined when we come to treat of 
** Imagination," and '' The Train of Thought in the Mind." 



CHAPTER VIII. 

OF MEMORY. 

I. Things obvious with Regard to Memory, 

242. Memory is the faculty by which the mind has a 
knowledge of what it had ^oxvaerXy perceived, felt ox thought. 
(See lUus. Art. 22. and the Illus. to Art. 139.) 

Illus. 1. It is by memory that we have an immediate knowledge 
o^ things past. Tly3 senses give us information of things only as they 



CHAP. VIII. Of Memory 103 

exist in the 'present moment ; and this information, if it were not pre- 
served by Memory, would vanish instantly, and leave us as ignorant 
as if it had never been. (See Art. 124. Illus. and Corol.) 

2. Memory must have an object. Every man who remembers, must 
remember something, and that which he remembers, is called the object 
of nis remembrance. In this, Memory is allied to Perception, but dif- 
fers from Sensation, which has no object but the feeling itself. (See 
Art. 125. and its Itlus.) 

3. We can distinguish the thing remembered from the remem- 
brance of it. We may remember any thing which we have seen, or 
heard, or known, or done, or suffered; but the remembrance of it is 
a particular act of the mind which now exists, and of which we are 
conscious. (See Illus. Art. 99.) 

Corol. The object of Memory being something that is past, and the 
object of Perception and of Consciousness something which is present ; 
what now is, cannot be an object of Memory ; neither can that which 
is past and gone be an object of Perception or of Consciousness. 

243. Memory is always accompanied with the belief of 
that which we remember, as Perception is accompanied 
with the belief of that which we perceive, and Consciousness 
with the belief of that whereof we are conscious. (See Art. 
100. Illus.) 

Illus. This belief, which we have from distinct Memory, we account 
real knowledge, no less certain than if it was grounded on demonstra- 
tion ; no man in his wits calls it in question, nor will he hear any argu- 
ment against it. But it cannot be resolved into the evidence of sense, 
or of any process of Memory, but must be staled as a peculiar kind of 
evidence, which we are so constituted as to admit of itself immediately, 
and ineonte stably. The testimony of witnesses, in causes of life and 
death, depends upon it, and all the knowledge mankind have of past 
events is built upon this foundation. (See Illus. 2. Art. 116.) 

Ohs. There are cases in which oui Memory is less distinct and de- 
terminate, and where we must frequently allow that it may have failed 
us \ but this does not in the least weaken its credit where it is perfect- 
ly distinct. 

244. To the exercise of Memory, we appear to be entire- 
ly indebted for the notion of time or duration ; for a being, 
destitute of that faculty, could never have possessed that 
notion ; and without Memory, he would have no idea of such 
a thing as motion, for motion is a successive change of place, 
and presupposes the notion of succession, or duration. 

Illus. 1. Memory implies a c{/7ice;)iio/i and belief of ip3 si duration; 
for it is impossible that we should remember any thing distinctly, 
without believing some interval of duration, more or less, to have 
passed between the time it happened, and the present moment ; and, 
if we had no Memory, we could acquire no notion of duration. 

2. Things remembered must be things formerly perceived or known. 
I remember the comet of 1811. must, therefore, have perceived it 



104 A Gt-ammar of Logic. book ii. 

at the time it appeared, otherwise I could not remember it. (See 
ILlus. 2. Art. 59.) Our first acquaintance with any object of thought 
cannot therefore be by remembrance ) for Memory can only produce 
a continuance or renewal of a former acquaintance with the thing re- 
membered. 

3. The notion of limited duration which we distinctly remember, 
leads us, by a kind of necessity, to the admission of a duration which 
has no limits — which neither began nor will have an end. In like 
manner, the notions of limited extension and magnitude, which we 
acquire by the senses, leads to the belief of an unlimited extension, or 
of space which has no bounds. 

4. Thus are acquired the notions of infinite space, and of infinite 
time or eternity. It cannot, however, be pretended, that our finite 
capacities are capable of forming adequate conceptions of that which 
is infinite and unbounded ) it can only be said, that there is less diffi- 
culty in conceiving infinite space, than in conceiving the final bound- 
aries of space, or the beginning or end of time. 

245. The remembrance of a past event is necessarily ac- 
companied with the conviction of our own existence at the 
time the event happened. 

Illus. I cannot call to my remembrance the death of the amiable 
and lamented Princess Charlotte, that happened a year ago, without a 
conviction as strong as memory can give, that I, the identical per- 
son who now remember that mournful eYeT\i,did then exist. (See Illus. 
to Art. 52.) 

Obs. These are principles obvious and certain, of which the reader 
must judge by what he feels ; and they admit no other proof but an 
appeal to his own reflection. 



II. Of Memory as an original Faculty. 

246. Of our original faculties, of which Memory is 
one, we can give no account, but that they were given us 
by the Author of our being. (See Art. 130.) 

nius. 1. The knowledge we have by Memory of things past, seems 
as unaccountable as an immediate knowledge would be of things to come. 
I find in my mind a distinct conception and a firm belief of a series 
of past events, as the battle of Trafalgar, the battle of Vittoria; but I 
know not how this is produced. I call it Memory, but this is only 
giving a name to it ; it is not an account of its cause. I remember the 
building of Waterloo Bridge ; I have seen hundreds of men employed 
on it, and thousands of blocks of granite used in its construction, and 
I most firmly believe these facts ; but I am unable to give any reason 
of this belief. I conclude, therefore, that it is the inspiration of my 
Maker that gives me this understanding. 

2. When I believe that I washed my hands and face this morning, 
there appears no necessity in the truth of this proposition : it might 
be, or it might not be. You may distinctly conceive it without be- 
lieving it. But how do I come to believe it .? — I remember it distinct 



CHAP. VIII. Of Memory. 105 

\y ) and this is all I can say about it. But this remembrance is an act 
of my mind. Could this act of my mind have existence if the event 
had not happened? If you can show that it could not have existence, 
you will then have fairly accounted for that belief which we have of 
what we remember ; but on the other hand, if you cannot show this, 
allow me still to think that this belief is unaccountable, and that we 
can say no more but that it is the result of our constitution. 

Corol. We are so constituted as to have an intuitive knowledge of 
many things past {Art. 47.) ; but we have no intuitive knowledge of 
the future. The past was, but now is not; we only remember things 
past. The future will be, but is not ; we can have no remembrance 
of the future, because we have no knowledge of it. We might per- 
haps have been so constituted as to have an intuitive knowledge of the 
future ; but not of the past : nor would this constitution have been 
more unaccountable than the present, though, for any thing we know 
to the contrary, it might be much more inconvenient. Had this been 
the constitution of the human kind, they who doubt the prescience of 
the Deity, or his knowledge of things future, would be plunged into 
an opposite disbelief of admitting his knowledge of things that are 
past. How limited, then, are proud man's most comprehensive con- 
ceptions ! 



III. Analysis of the Faculty of Memory. 

247. The faculty of Memory implies two things : first, a 
CAPACITY of retaining knowledge ; and, secondly, a power 
of recalling that knowledge to our thoughts when we have 
occasion to make use of it. 

Ohs. The word Memory is sometimes employed to express the ca- 
pacity, and sometimes the power. When, we speak of a retentive mem- 
ory, we use it in the former sense ; when of a ready Memory, in the 
latter. 

248. The various particulars which compose our stock of 
knowledge are, from time to time, recalled to our thoughts 
in tioo ways : sometimes they recur to us spontaneously , or 
at least without any interference on our part ; in other cases, 
they are recalled in consequence of an effort of will. 

Kote. It would probably be as philosophical to say. Memory is either 
casual or intentional — Casual, when subjects or thoughts, by any 
connection of their own, recur to the mind — Intentional, when the 
mind, from design, recalls any subject or thought. 

Jllus. For the former operation of the mind, we have the appropri- 
ate name Reminiscence, or Remembrance : in our language, the latter, 
too, is often called by the name of memory, but is more properly dis- 
tinguished by the word recollection. {Art. 254.) 

249. The operations of Memory relate either to things 
and their relations, or to events. 

8* 



106 A Grammar of Logic, book ii. 

lllus. In the former case, thoughts which have been formerly in 
the mind, may recur to us ; but whether, at that time, we have the 
idea of the past suggested or not, there is, doubtless, a certain modifi- 
cation of time, because what we remember is past. In the latter case, 
it is more evident, that if we recall to mind former objects of its 
thoughts, we refer the event to a particular time; so that of every such 
-'.act of Memory, the idea of the past is a necessary concomitant. (See 
lllus. 1. Art. 245.) 

250. The evidence, or belief, of past existence, which 
always accompanies Memory, [Art. 243.) forms one impor- 
tant distinction between that faculty and Association. 

lllus. 1. The suggestions which are made by the faculty of Asso- 
ciation alone, impress us with no belief of their reality. In fact, the 
very materials upon which they are employed, if not supplied by the 
immediate perception of the moment, must be furnished by the mem- 
ory, or that faculty which enables us to treasure up past knowledge. 

Carol. Thus the power of Association, in its most useful exercise, 
presupposes the power of Memory ; and when, during the spontane- 
ous flow of the current of thought, we recognize a combination of 
which we had formerly been conscious, and distinguish it from one 
newly formed, this necessarily implies an exercise of a faculty which 
can distinguish /orme?' knowledge from new ; which is not an attribute 
of the faculty of Association, but of the Memory alone. 

lllus. 2. In the case of some old men, who retain pretty exactly the 
information which they receive, but are sometimes unable to recollect 
in what manner the particulars which they find connected together in 
their thoughts at first came into the mind, whether they occurred to 
them in a dream, or were communicated to them in conversation, we 
have an example of the power of Association operating without any 
aid from Memory. (See Art. 254. lllus. 2. and Example.) But in 
most cases, the suggestions of Memory are made by means of the com- 
binations previously established among our thoughts. 

3. This, however, is but one part of the province of Memory ; for, as 
was observed above, (Art. 247.) this faculty implies two things; a ca- 
pacity of retaining knowledge, and a power of recalling it to our 
thoughts when we have occasion to apply it to use. The first of these 
is entirely independent of the faculty of Combination ; but this faculty 
is the principal, though not the sole instrument, by which the latter 
purpose is accomplished. 

4. The advantages of this law are thus stated by Mr. Stewart. 
On the other hand, says he, it is evident that without the associa- 
ting principle, the power of retaining our thoughts, and of recognizing 
them when they occur to us, would have been of little use ; for the 
most important articles of our knowledge might have remained la- 
tent in the mind, even when those occasions presented themselves to 
which they are immediately applicable. 

Corol. In consequence of this law of our nature, not only are all 
our various ideas made to pass from time to time in review before 
us, and to offer themselves to our choice as subjects of meditation, 
but, when an occasion occurs which calls for the aid of our past ex- 
perience, the occasion itself recalls to us all the information upon the 
iubject which that experience hath accumulated. 



CHAP. VIII. Of Memory. 107 



IV. Varieties of Memory in different Individuals. 

251. Of all oui faculties, Memory is that which nature 
nas bestowed in the most unequal degrees on different in- 
dividuals ; but the original disparities are by no means so 
immense as they seem to be at first view ; and much of this 
diversity is to be ascribed to different habits of Attention, 
and to a difference of selection among the various objects 
and events presented to our curiosity. 

Illus. As the great purpose to which this facuUy is subservient, is, 
to enable us to collect and retain, for the future regulation of our con- 
duct, the results of our past experience, it is evident that the degree 
of perfection which it attains in the case of different persons, must 
vary ) first, with. \he facility of making the original acquisition; second- 
ly, with the 'permanence of the acquisition ; and, thirdly, with the quick- 
ness or readiness with which the individual is able, on particular occa- 
sions, to apply it to use. 

Corol. Tiie qualities, therefore, of a good Memory, are, in the first 
place, to be susceptible; secondly, to be retentive) and, thirdly, to be 
ready. 

252. Susceptibility and readiness are both connected with 
a facility of associating ideas, according to their more obvi- 
ous relations ; retentiveness or ttnaciousness of Memory, 
depends principally on what is seldom united with this fa- 
cility^r-a disposition to system and philosophical arrange- 
ment. 

Illus. 1. The more obvious relations which befriend susceptibility 
and readiness, are those of resemblance and of analogy, and the casual 
relations arising from the contiguity of time and place ; the philosophical 
arrangement upon which retentiveness and tenaciousness of Memory 
depend, has for its basis the relations o? cause and effect, or of premises 
and conclusion. 

Ohs. This difference in the modes of Association in different men, is 
the foundation of some very striking diversities between them in respect 
of intellectual character. But we have anticipated the further illustra- 
tion of this position in Chapters IV., VI., and VII., to which we must 
therefore refer the reader. 

Illus. 2. Again, our ideas are frequently associated in consequence 
of the associations which take place among their arbitrary signs. All 
the signs by which our thoughts are expressed, are addressed either to 
the eye or to the ear; and the impressions made on these organs at the 
time when we first receive an idea, contribute to give us a firmer hold 
of it. Visible objects are remembered more easily than those of any 
of our other senses (see Jirt. 142. Illus.) ; and hence it is, that the buUc 



108 A Grammar of Logic, book ii. 

of mankind are more aided in their recollection by the impressions 
made on the eye, than by those made on the ear. But in the philoso- 
pher, whose habits of constantly employing words as an instrument of 
thought, cooperating with that inattention which he is apt to contract 
to things external, the original powers of recollection and conception 
with respect to vlaible objects are commonly greatly weakened ; while 
the power of retaining propositions and reasonings expressed in lan- 
guage is greatly strengthened by his habits of abstraction and general- 
ization. 

3. A prejudice has obtained, that a great Memory is scarcely com- 
patible with that acuteness of parts denominated genius ; and the effect 
of this opinion is such, that no one blushes at acknowledging a short- 
ness of Memory, while to be accused of a defect of judgment, or a want 
of penetration, is usually considered a high affront. This prejudice, 
however, appears to be without foundation ; and Memory, far from be- 
ing incompatible with genius, seems even to be necessary, in its utmost 
perfection, for those happy exertions of intellect which confer immor- 
tality upon their authors. 

Example. Robert Bloomfield, that completely self-taught genius and 
pleasing poet, composed the latter part of the Autumn, and the whole 
of the Winter o^ his Farmer's Boy, mewtoZ/?/, without ever putting pen 
to paper. Nor was this all ; for he even thoroughly corrected and re- 
vised this extensive portion of his poem, before he ever wrote a word of 
it; and this, too, while at work with his fellow journeymen, in a garret ; 
and then, as he himself expressed it, he had nothing to do hut to write 
it down ' 

Illus. 4. The following example, on the contrary, justifies the fore- 
going prejudice ; for none who have perused the writings of the amus- 
ing author of whom we are now to speak, can doubt that he possessed 
genius. 

Example. Montaigne frequently complains, in his writings, of his 
want of Memory ; and he indeed gives many very extraordinary in- 
stances of his ignorance on some of the most ordinary topics of informa- 
tion. But it is obvious, as Mr. Stewart justly remarks, that this igno- 
rance did not proceed from an original defect of memory, but from the 
singular and whimsical direction which his curiosity had taken at an 
early period of life. '' I can do nothing," says Montaigne, ^^ without 
my memorandum-book; and, so great is my difficulty in remembering 
proper names, that 1 am forced to call my domestic servants by their 
offices. I am ignorant of the greater part of our coins in use ; of the 
difference of one grain from another; both in the earth and in the gran- 
ary ; what use leaven is in making bread, and why wine must stand 
some time in the vat before it ferments. When I have an oration to 
speak, of any considerable length, I am reduced to the miserable ne- 
cessity of getting it, word for word, by heart." — Malebranche doubted 
the veracity of Montaigne on these matters; Mr. Stewart acquits him 
of affectation ; but whoever has seen the statue of Montaigne in the 
vestibule of the '^ Institute of France,'' will not question the credibility 
of his assertions, provided the sculptor hath fairly chiselled a likeness 
of the most inanimate-looking mortal, in whom a spark of genius ever 
shone. 



CHAP. VIII. Of Memory, 109 

V. Of the Decay of Memory in old People. 

253. The decay of Memory in old people is a matter of 
familiar observation, as well as that peculiarity with which it 
is usually accompanied; — namely, that a complete, and even 
minute recollection, usually remains of the events of an older 
date, and the occurrences of early life. 

Illus. 1. The failure of Memory, in regard to recent occurrences, 
is owing to the decay of Attention. From this decay, these occur- 
rences do not make a sufficient impression on the mind to be afterwards 
recollected ; but the associating principle remaining in full vigor, and 
the train of thought continuing to perform its office, circumstances 
which have been already familiarized to the mind are still suggested 
with the wonted accuracy. 

2. The foregoing illustration may be reckoned satisfactory, if we 
understand, by the decay of Memory, not the diminished energy 
of some one particular faculty of the mind, but the relaxed vigor 
of all, or most of the mental faculties, which, like the bodily func- 
tions, being impaired by the approach of old age, are incapable of 
contemplating their respective objects with that degree of force which 
is requisite to their being distinctly remembered afterwards. The de- 
cay of sensibility and the extinction of passion, which are the conse- 
quences of old age, likewise powerfully cooperate in producing this 
effect, by diminishing the interest which the common occurrences of 
life are calculated to produce. 

254. That kind of Memory which old people possess, 
generally in a state of vigor, and by which circumstances 
are presented spontaneously to the mind, without any volun- 
tary effort, has been called Reminiscence or Remem- 
brance ; while that which requires a more vigorous effort, 
and is more dependent upon the will of the individual, has 
been distinguished by the name of Recollection, [Art. 248. 
Note and Illus.) 

Illus. 1. The former, as mentioned above, {Art. 250. Illus. 2.) is 
chiefly dependent upon the faculty of Association ; while the latter 
will not be found but where the mind possesses the active exertion of 
the faculty called Attention. The distinction is as old as the days of 
Aristotle,* who remarks, that the brutes possess the first kind of Mem- 
ory, but exhibit no traces of the last, which is therefore a valuable 
characteristic of man. 

2. This Reminiscence of ideas formerly impressed on the mind, 
and forge tfulness of recent ones, is no unusual circumstance attend- 
ing a paralysis, though our physiology is not yet sufficiently advanced 
to account for it. 

Example. Both the foregoing illustrations are corroborated by the 
authority of the late learned Dr. Watson, Bishop of Llandaff : '' My 
father," says he in his Memoirs, '^ had been afflicted with a palsy for 
several years before his death. I have heard him ask twenty times in 

* De Memor. et Reminisc. 



110 A Grammar of Logic. book ii 

a day , ' What is the name of the lad that is at college ? ' (my elder 
brother) ; and yet he was able to repeat, without a blunder, hundreds 
of lines out of classic authors." 

VI. Of the Improvement of Memory. 

255. The cultivation of so noble a faculty as the Mem- 
ory, is a matter of the highest importance ; at the same time 
we must not expect that any cultivation, how assiduous so 
ever, will altogether make up for natural deficiencies of 
Memory, any more than those of judgment, taste, or any 
other faculty. 

lllus. 1. Of a human Memory improved to no extraordinary pitch, 
how vast is the comprehension ! With what an endless multitude of 
thought is it supplied, by reflection, by reading, by conversation, and 
by a diversified experience ! Things natural ; as animals, vegetables, 
minerals, fossils ; mountains, valleys ; land and water ; earth and 
heaven ; the sun, moon, and stars, with their several appearances, 
motions, and periods ', the atmosphera and meteors, with all the vicissi- 
tudes of the weather; — things artificial, as towns, streets, houses, 
roads, bridges, and machines, with their various appendages ; — abstract 
notions with regard to truth and falsehood, beauty and deformity, vir- 
tue and vice ; — proportions in quantity and number ; — religion, com- 
merce, and policy, whereof the brutes know nothing, and which are 
the chief materials of human conversation. 

^. These are some of the general heads under which may be ar- 
ranged the manifold treasures of human memory ; and under each 
of these heads, what an infinity of individual things are comprehend- 
ed ! How numerous, for example, are the words of one language ! 
He who is master of four, must be supposed to retain at least two 
hundred thousand words; with all the different ways of applying 
them, according to rule, and innumerable passages in books to illus- 
trate their meaning. And" that four languages do not exceed the 
capacity of an ordinary man, will not be denied by those who are 
acquainted with the writings of Sir William Jones ; much less if they 
believe, with Pliny and Quinctilian, that Mithridates understood two 
ana twenty I 

256. The utmost that can be expected from any exertion 
of our own, is, to direct the Memory to its proper objects, 
and in that order and succession which will most facilitate 
its operation ; to remove as much r.s possible those obstruc- 
tions which are likely to retard the proper action of the fac- 
ulty ; and, by a repeated and industrious exertion, to bring 
it to that state of maturity and that degree of energy, which, 
in every human attainment, are so highly promoted by 
exercise. 

lilus. 1. In order successfully to cultivate the Memory, we must 
cultivate the powers of Attention and Association, on wb'ch it mainly 



oHAP. VII J. OJ- Memory, 111 

depends. And nothing will contribute more to the recollection of 
tilings at any future period, than clear and distinct conceptions of them 
at the present ; that is to say, when they first become obje-cts of our 
attention, for vaguely formed and indefinite notions will leave no 
permanent traces on the mind. 

2. When we read, therefore, let us labor to understand clearly and 
precisely our author's meaning ; let us compare what goes before with 
what follows in his work ; let us search for the characteristic features 
of his system, and compare his opinions with those of other authors 
who have treated of the same subject. By this means, not only the 
faculties of Conception and Attention, but the Reasoning powers, will 
be usefully exercised ; and the best provision will be made for a dis- 
tinct recollection. 

257. It has been much disputed whether it be an useful 
exercise to write down those things which we are desirous 
to remember ; but there can be little doubt that, in some 
cases, this may be exceedingly proper ; in others, not so. 

Illus. To write a great deal cannot be highly useful to the Memo- 
ry ; for the attention is but too apt to be diverted from the matter 
itself to the mere manual operation ; but it is surely useful to tran- 
scribe certain short passages, which we select on account of the im- 
portance or curiosity of the matters they contain, and to which we, 
by this means, can afterwards conveniently refer. It would likewise, 
no doubt, be very useful to write a short abridgment and character 
of any important book we have read ; or, at least, to state the leading 
tenets of the work, and our opinion of its merits, in a few short para- 
graphs. We should thus come, in time, to think for ourselves — we 
should form a sort of register of our studies, to which we might after- 
wards refer with the greatest advantage — and we would thus improve 
the faculties of Association and Attention. For, without comparing 
together the different parts of an author's work, so as to form out of it 
one consistent whole, and comparing it also with the writings of oth 
ers on the same subject, so as to digest the whole into a system. Asso- 
ciation will not be promoted. Attention will not be increased, and all 
our reading will furnish nothing but a desultory collection of ideas, 
scarcely applicable to any useful purpose. Professor Porson, whc 
could at will recite any passage from the Greek poets, thus speaks : 
"" I never remember any thing but what I transcribe three times, 
or read over six times, at the least ; and if you will do the same, 
you will have as good a memory ;" and his memory was most ex- 
cellent. 

258. With respect to the mechanical expedients which 
have been proposed for aiding the Memory, it does not ap- 
pear that much real advantage is to be expected from them. 
The loci of the ancients, and the memorial lines of the mod- 
erns, are the chief, of each of which we shall give a brief 
illustration. 

Illus. 1. The intention of the celebrated loci, or Topical Memory, 
of the ancient rhetoricians, was to facilitate the recollection of the 



112 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

various heads of an oration, by associating them in the mind with the 
different apartments of a house, or the various houses in a street, the 
precise succession of which had been previously rendered familiar ta 
the mind. The subordinate parts of the discourse were to be asso- 
ciated with the furniture of the rooms, or the subdivisions of the 
houses; and thus the whole oration was to be suggested to the Mem- 
ory, with very little effort. The writings of Cicero and Quinctilian 
contain a full account of this mechanical contrivance, which, without 
doubt, is founded on nature ; but Quinctilian candidly acknowledges 
that he never received any benefit from this artificial kind of Memo- 
ry. The case was otherwise with Cicero. It has for ages fallen into 
disuse ; but, in allusion to it, the heads of a discourse are still called 
topics, and we continue to say — in the first place, in the second place, 
&c 

Example. Mr. Stewart gives an instance of Topical Memory. It 
is this : — A young woman, in a very low rank of life, contrived a 
method of committing to memory the sermons she was accustomed to 
hear, by fixing her attention, during the different heads of the dis- 
course, on different compartments of the roof of a church, in such a 
manner as that, when she afterwards saw the roof, or recollected the 
order in which its compartments were disposed, she recollected the 
method which the preacher had observed in treating his subject. 

Illus. 2. The memorial lines, or verses, are more useful than the 
method of loci, since, by the substitution of the letters of the alpha- 
bet for the numeral characters, we can easily commit to Memory cer- 
tain dates, measures, computations, and other things. Gray's Memo- 
ria Technica, a small volume on this artificial help, contains an ample 
collection of such memorial verses. There is also a small volume by 
Mr. Jackson, on '' A New and Improved System of Mnemonics, or the 
Art of Memory, applied to Figures, Chronology, Geography, Statis- 
tics, History, and Poetry, illustrated with many Plates." This is an 
ingenious little book, founded on Watts's Improvement of the Mind; 
and its brevity and perspicuity entitle it to notice in every work on 
intellectual philosophy. M. Feinagle, too, has published a new Art 
of Memory, adapted to the meanest capacity, and its application is 
rather a source of amusement than labor. It possesses all the advan- 
tages of the methods which preceded its development, and, as a 
whole, is perhaps superior to any book on this art that has yet ap- 
peared. But this important object, it would seem, can be accomplished 
only by cultivating those exertions of the mind on which the faculty 
of Memory depends, namely, Attention and the Association of 
Ideas. 



CHAPTER IX. 

OF IMAGINATION. 

259. Imagination is the faculty which makes a selection 
of qualities and circumstances from a variety of different 



CHAP. IX. Of Imagination. 113 

objects, and by combining and disposing these, forms new 
creations of its own. (See Art. 97. No. IX.) 

Obs. 1. Thus, Imagination is distinguished from Abstraction, in 
which we endeavor to generalize. Imagination invests objects 
with all their qualities, real or fictitious : it exerts itself in matters 
which we know to be real, as well as in matters which we invent, or 
believe to be fictitious. (See Chapter VI. on Mstraction^ Sections 
II, and III.) 

2. The distinction between Imagination and Conception was fully 
drawn in Article 141. and its Illustration and JVote, to which, there- 
fore, to avoid the tediousness of repetition, the reader is referred. 

I. Analysis of the Operations of Imagination. 

260. The operations of the faculty of Imagination are 
general, extending to the representation of notions or com- 
binations of thought, as well as of sensible impressions 
originally made on the external organs ; and, if we establish 
this, we shall have proved that the province of Imagination 
is not barely limited to objects of sight. 

Rlus. 1. Although the greater part of the materials which Im- 
agination combines, be supplied by the sense of sight, it is never- 
theless indisputable, that our other perceptive faculties also contribute 
their share. How many pleasing images, says Mr. Stewart, have 
been borrowed from the fragrance of the fields and the melody of the 
groves ; not to mention that sister art, whose magical influence over 
the human frame, it has been, in all ages, the highest boast of poetry 
to celebrate ! In the following passage, even the more gross sensa- 
tions of taste form the subject of an ideal repast, on which it is im- 
possible not to dwell with some complacency ; particularly after the 
perusal of the preceding lines, in which the poet describes '• the 
wonders of the torrid zone." 

Bear me, Pomona ! to thy citron groves; 
To where the lemon and the piercing lime. 
With the deep orange, glowing through the green, 
Their lighter glories blend. Lay me reclined 
Beneath the spreading tamarind, that shakes, 
Fanned by the breeze, its fever-cooling fruit ; 
Or, stretched amid these orchards of the sun, 
O let me drain the cocoa's milky bowl, 
More bounteous far than all the frantic juice 
Which Bacchus pours ! Nor on its slender twigs, 
Low bending, be the pomegranate scorned ; 
Nor, creeping through the woods, the gelid rf ce 
Of, berries : oft in humble station dwells 
Unboastful worth, above fastidious pomp. 
Witness thou best Anana, thou the pride 
Of vegetable life, beyond whate'er 
The poets imaged in the golden age ; 



114 A Grammar of Logic book ii 

Quick let me strip thee of i\\y «picy coat. 
Spread thy ambrosial stores, and feast with Jove. 

Thomson's Summer. 

CoroL This quotation shows how inadequate a notion of the prov 
ince of Imagination (considered even in its reference to the sensible 
world) we must entertain, if we would limit its operations to objects 
of sight merely. 

261. But the sensible world, in its widest range, is not 
the only field in which Imagination exerts her powers. 
All the objects of human knowledge supply materials to her 
forming hand ; diversifying infinitely the works she pro- 
duces, while the mode of her operation remains essentially 
uniform. 

Illus. 1. Thus the Imagination becomes a bond of association for 
those intellectual processes which are consta^ntly going on in the 
mind, and acts a principal part in those creations of Fancy, which, 
derived from an union of Abstraction, Generalization, and Taste, 
constitutes works of genius in the fine arts. The Imagination does 
not abstract nor generalize, but it reproduces and supplies materials 
for these several processes, according to the laws of association, 
which regulate the procedure of the mind, in its recollections and 
combinations. 

2. As it is the same power of reasoning which enables us to carry 
on our investigations with respect to individual objects, and with 
respect to classes and genera, so it was by the same processes of 
analysis and combination, that the genius of Milton produced the 
Garden of Eden (Illus. 2. Jirt. 264.), that of Harrington, the Com- 
monwealth of Oceana {Jlrt. 187. Illu8. 1.), and that of Shakspeare, 
the characters of Hamlet and Sir John FalstafF. 

Corol. The difference between these several efforts of invention 
consists only in the manner in which the original materials were 
acquired ; as far as the power of Imagination is concerned, the pro- 
cesses appear, to my mind, to be perfectly analogous. 

262. The mind, however, has a greater facility, and, of 
..v>asequence, a greater delight in recalling the perceptions 
of the sense of sight, than those of any of the other senses, 
while, at the same time, the variety of the qualities per- 
ceived by it is incomparably greater. 

TIIms. It is this sense, accordingly, which supplies the painter and 
the statuary with all the subjects on which their genius is exercised. 
It is this sense, too, which furnishes to the descriptive poet the 
largest and the most valuable portion of the materials which he 
combines. It is observed by Mr. Stewart, that in that absurd spe- 
cies of prose composition, also, which borders upon poetry, nothing 
is more remarkable than the predominance o? phrases i\\?ii recall to 
the memory, glaring colors, and those splendid appearances of nature, 
which make a strong impression on the eye. Thus, in the Oriental 
style, the greater part of the metaphors are taken from the celestial 



ifHAP. IX. OJ Imagination. 115 

luminaries ; and the works of the Persians, as is observed by Vol- 
taire, are like the titles of their kings, in which we are perpetually 
dazzled with the sun, and the inoon, and the stars. The juvenile 
productions of every author, possessed of a warm Imagination, partake 
of this characteristic ; and the compositions of every people, among 
whom a cultivated and philosophical taste has not established a su^ 
ficiently nl^rked distinction between the appropriate styles of poetry 
and prose, partake sufficiently of the infantine reveries of poetic 
genius, to show why the word Imagination, in its most ordinary ac- 
ceptation, should be applied to cases where our conceptions are de- 
rived from the sense of sight ; although the province of this power 
be, in fact, as unlimited as the sphere of human enjoyment and of 
human thought. But in these illustrations we may clearly trace the 
origin of the word Imagination ; the etymology of which implies man- 
ifestly a reference to visible objects. 

263. The mind forms combinations out of the materials 
supplied by the power of Conception ; and these combina- 
tions recommend themseJves strongly to our constitution, 
both by their simplicity, and by the interesting nature of 
the discussions to which they lead. 

Obs. The arts of poetry and painting furnish the most pleasing and 
instructive illustrations of the operations and intellectual processes of 
Imagination. In those analogous exemplifications of this faculty, 
which fall under the observation of the moralist, the mind deviates 
from the models presented to it by experience, and forms to itself new 
and untried objects of pursuit. And how little soever such processes 
may be attended to, they are habitually passing in the thoughts of all 
men ; and it is in consequence of these processes that human affairs 
exhibit so busy and so various a scene; tending in one case to im- 
provement, and, in another, to decline ; according as our notions of 
excellence and happiness are just or erroneous, 

264. But besides Conception, or simple Apprehension, 
which enables us to form a notion of those former objects of 
perception or of knowledge, out of which we are to make a 
selection, Imagination includes Abstraction, which sepa- 
rates the selected materials from the qualities and circum- 
stances which are connected with them in nature ; and 
Judgment, or Taste, too, which selects the materials and 
directs their combination. Nor does this complex power 
include only those powers we have just enumerated, and to 
which, under Conception and Abstraction, we have shown 
their alliance ; but that particular habit of association also, 
to which we gave the name of Fancy, when illustrating the 
pleasing effect of simile, poetical allusion, and allegory. 
(See Article 208.) 

nius. 1 Fancy collects materials for the Imagination (Corol. 2 



116 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

.■irt. 208.) 3 and though her principal stores are commonly sup- 
posed to be borrowed from the material world, as the metaphorical lan- 
i^uage of the poet, and his analogies, which are the foundation of his 
allusions, but too forcibly prove 3 yet the favorite excursions of 
Fancy are from intellectual and moral subjects to the appearances with 
which our senses are conversant. (Art. 261. Illus.l.) In a word, 
wherever her stores may be treasured up, in what direction soever her 
flights may be taken, it is Fancy which presents to our choice all the 
different materials which are subservient to the efforts of Imagination, 
and which may therefore be considered as forming the groundwork 
of poetical genius. 

2. This illustration is confirmed by an analysis of the steps by 
which Milton must have proceeded in creating his imaginary Garden 
of Eden, {lllus. 2. Art. 261.) When he first proposed to himself that 
subject of description, it is reasonable to suppose that his Fancy 
crowded into his mind a variety of the most striking scenes which he 
had seen. The Association of ideas would suggest those scenes ; the 
combinations of Fancy would link such as might be real or imagina- 
tive, and fit objects of description 3 the power of conception would 
place each of them before him with all its beauties and imperfections. 
For in every natural scene, which we may destine for a particular 
purpose, there are defects and redundancies, which art may sometimes, 
but cannot always, correct. And as objects may be imagined sepa- 
rately or jointly — as the power of Imagination is unlimited — as, in the 
separate images of things, she can consider their real or possible 
qualities and circumstances — as, in their joint images, she can con- 
sider their similitude, analogy and opposition — as she can create and 
annihilate 3 Milton, accordingly, would not copy his Eden from any 
one scene, but would select from each the features which were most 
eminently beautiful. The power of Abstraction enabled him to 
make the separation, and Taste directed him in the selection. Thus 
was Milton furnished with his materials, by a skilful combination of 
which he has created a landscape, more perfect, probably, in all its 
parts, than was ever seen by any writer who has attempted to de- 
scribe nature. 

Carol. 1. Since, then. Imagination is not a simple power of the 
mind, but a combination of various faculties, it must appear under 
very different forms in the case of different individuals. And since 
the variety of the materials out of which the combinations of the 
poet or the painter are formed, will depend much on the tendency 
of external situation, to store the mind with a multiplicity of con- 
ceptions, and the beauty of those combinations will depend entirely 
on the success with which the power of Taste has been cultivated 3 
it is further evident, that its component parts are liable to be great- 
ly influenced bv habit and other accidental circumstances. {Art. 
128. lllus.) 

2. The illustrations which have been offered of the power of 
Imagination, according to the reasoning of Mr. Stewart, lead to the 
conclusion that this power is not the gift of nature, but the result of 
acquired habits, aided by favorable circumstances ; that it is not 
an original endowment of the mind, but an accomplishment formed 
by experience and situation 3 and which, in its different gradations, 
fills up all the interval between the first efforts of untutored genius 



CHAP. IX. Of Imagination. 117 

and the sublime creations of Raphael or of Milton. (See Art. 275. 
and Illus.) 

265. That men differ from each other greatly in the 
force of their Imagination, or in the power of forming or 
conceiving new creations and combinations, is matter of 
the most familiar observation. And, as far as the term 
genius has yet been distinctly limited, it appears to denote 
a facility in forming such combinations. This, in fact, is 
the proper province of invention, which is the peculiar pre- 
rogative of genius ; for this can have no farther range than 
an analysis, and new disposition, of the various objects 
which nature presents to us ; and never can extend to a 
new creation of its own, in the strict and proper sense of 
the word. 

Illus. Thus, a blind man, let his invention be ever so lively, 
could never discover a new property of light. And, according to 
this view of the subject, a man of genius is no more than a man of 
active Imagination ; and though both terms are more usually appro- 
priated to literary eminence, yet, if we take them in this sense, the 
inventor in mechanics, in mathematics, in agriculture, or in any of 
the useful arts, or pursuits of life, is as much entitled to the appella- 
tion of a man of Genius and Imagination, as the poet, the painter, 
and the orator. 

266. A passive Imagination is that which is limited to a 
ready conception of new combinations, when suggested to 
it, but it does not extend to the original formation of such 
combinations. And that there does exist such a species of 
Imagination, we think is evident, from the proof contained 
in the following illustration. 

Rlus. This kind of Imagination does not go so far as to constitute 
a man of genius, yet it seems to furnish the proper qualification for 
the man of taste, since it enables him to relish and appreciate the 
productions of genius, although not to rival and excel in them. Of 
the two qualifications, it may be doubted whether the latter does not 
most contribute to real enjoyment. The pleasures which the man of 
fine taste derives from contemplating the productions of genius, is 
scarcely inferior to the high relish which the exercise of invention 
itself imparts ; and the inventive Imagination of the man of genius is 
but too apt to conjure up phantoms for his own torment ; and to burn 
with jealousies, which his fancy knows but too well how to feed. 
The histories of Rousseau, Chatterton, Swift, Johnson, and other 
geniuses of heated, or of gloomy Imaginations, afford ample confirma- 
tion of the truth of this fact. 

267. That belief may be attached to certain operations 
of the Imagination, which are then mistaken for realities, 
and produce as remarkable effects upon the individual, as 

9* 



1J8 A Grainmar of Logic. book ii. 

if they were the very things they are mistaken for, is a fact 
none will dispute, who have attended to the inexplicable 
phenomena of the human mind, in the case of those unfor- 
tunate persons who are in the state of hypochondriacs, or 
imaginary invalids. 

lllus. 1. The wildest suggestions of the Imagination impress upon 
these unfortunate persons the full conviction of reality ; and all the 
reasoning of their friends, or physicians, is insufficient to convince 
them that they are formed like other men, and have not some part 
of their bodies either unnaturally distorted, or fashioned of dif- 
ferent materials from flesh, an(l blood, and bones. When hypo- 
chondriasis arrives at this height, it makes a near approach to cer- 
tain stages of madness ; and if the physician should deny that the 
bodily disease exists of which his patient complains, he must yet 
allow that there is a real disease of the mind. The Imagination 
of the hypochondriac is not so much bewildered as it is lost in ab- 
surdities. And when the actions, the looks, and the language of 
any person whom we respect, or with whom we have had an ac- 
quaintance, show that his mind has been soured by cruel vicissi- 
tudes in life — his hopes of domestic happiness blasted by keen 
disappointment — his affections withered by the loss of some being 
who had just begun to cherish them — or his brain set on fire by 
treachery and ingratitude, in those from whom he had a right to 
expect fidelity and kindness — or his faculties deluged by a chaos of 
business, which he had neither the ingenuity to arrange, nor the 
resolution to abandon, for his own peace and ease — or beclouded 
by the reaction of a distempered conscience, — when, in one word, 
a congregation of unlooked-for, and, as the individual is almost 
always sure to imagine, unmerited calamities, give such a view of 
human affairs, as to represent life a scene of mere illusions ; then is 
that mortal forlorn indeed ; but still he is less an object of pity than 
those unfeeling brutes who can sport with so sublime a picture of 
mysterious, wretched man ; — and it is ten to one, the spirit of the 
being we have sketched, like a lonely sentinel guarding the ashes 
of his general, in moody solitude, yet loves to keep house with its 
friendless subject, now more to be compassioned and wooed to 
reason and sprightliness, than spurned and shunned for his imbe- 
cility and dulness. 

2. This is no overcharged picture — I have had very much inter- 
course with its original, and from communion with the operation of 
the faculty now under consideration, I am willing it should be re- 
corded. But the following is a striking case of hypochondriasis 
within, perhaps, the precincts of madness. Monsieur Pinel is the 
physician of an hospital of lunatics in Paris, and, from his amiable 
manners and gentle treatment of his patients, receives no other 
name, from the most ferocious, than '^ papa; " and from the females 
of that 

'' Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease," 

the courtesy of their sex — the compliment of a salutation. This ia 
treating mad folks as they ought to be treated, and forms a brilliant 



CHAP. IX. Of Imagination. 119 

contrast to the brutal system of cudgelling, adopted in tne treatment 
of the illustrious, or the man of genius, by some of our own physi- 
cians. A patient was brought to Monsieur Pinel, accusing himself 
of having denounced many persons to the revolutionary tribunals 
during the reign of terror. M. Pinel heard from the lips of this pa- 
tient fiis own tale of wo ; and adopted the following method of treat- 
ment, or cure. As the lunatic wanted to be brought to justice, for 
having brought many virtuous and good citizens to the block, M. 
Pinel had his patient brought to trial. The court consisted of M. 
Pinel and other physicians, in the capacity of judges. Some of the 
medical students bore the characters and assumed the offices of coun- 
sel against and for the accused. On an appointed day, the poor luna- 
tic was carried from his cell to the tribunal of justice, or, in other 
words, to a saloon of the hospital, where every thing bore the appear- 
ance of a criminal court. He was placed at its bar ; the charges were 
preferred against him, as himself had developed his imaginary crimes 
to M. Pinel ; these charges were substantiated by pretended eye and 
ear witnesses. But, on the other hand, the lunatic, as he had revealed 
to M. Pinel, had to value himself on many good deeds which he had 
rendered to his fellow-citizens during the phrensy of the Revolution. 
The counsel for the accused, in their defence, brought witnesses to 
support these services, and urged their weight against the charges of 
the Attorney- General. M. Pinel, who acted as chief judge, summed up 
the evidence. The crimes of the prisoner amounted to so many ; his es- 
sential good deeds to so many more than the former. Tiiis preponder- 
ance the jury were charged to well consider, in giving their verdict. 
They did so — they found the prisoner guilty of such and such things, 
but he had done so much good to the nation, that he was still an object 
of mercy; and, therefore, they recommended him to mercy. The sen- 
tence of the court was, that the accused should be kept in confine- 
ment for three months, and then set at liberty. Before the trial was 
ended, the unfortunate man was nearly as free from hypochondriasis 
as his judges, and, long before the period of his sentence had expired, 
M. Pinel restored him to his friends quite well. But, unhappily, one 
of the students chanced, some time afler, to mention in a company 
the case we have now described ; and its subject happened to be one 
of the company. The effect was like a shock of electricity upon him. 
His Imagination instantly lost its equipoise, and he relapsed into his 
former unfortunate state of hypochondriasis ; and he was not again to 
be cheated into sanity by M. Pinel. I relate this case from memory, 
on the authority of two gentlemen, who attended as students the hos- 
pital which M. Pinel governs. 

268. Bat even when the intellects are in a comparatively 
sound state, the visions of the Imagination may be made to 
produce, in certain persons, all the effects of reality. The 
success of certain empirical impositions, among which we 
may particularize the Animal Magnetism of Mesmer, and 
tl e Tractors of Perkins, sufficiently establish this fact. 

Illus. 1 The reign of aniinal magnetism is now over : but its fame 



120 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

was rapidly circulated, and its wonders detailed and swallowed with 
avidity. The most incredulous could not deny the reality of its 
effects ; as convulsions were produced, and strong bodily agitations 
excited, in persons who could not be suspected of lending their aid to 
the imposture. But the examination of the Academy of Sciences at 
Paris dispelled the illusion, and satisfactorily established that, as far as 
the effects were real, they were to be ascribed merely to the influence 
of the Imagination. 

2. The more modern quackery of the metallic tractors seems fairly 
reducible, says Mr. Scott, to the same class. If these ever pro- 
duced a real cure, the effect is to be ascribed to the influence of 
the Imagination, and not to the virtue of the metal. This seems, 
indeed, to be completely established by Dr. Haygarth, who found 
that his patients thought themselves equally benefited, whether 
he employed the tractors of Perkins, or tractors of his own manu- 
facture, or even tractors of wood^ colored so as to resemble those 
of metal. (See his " Treatise on the Imagination, as a Cause and 
Cure of Disease.") 

Corol. This influence of the Imagination on the corporeal frame, 
forms one feature of the mysterious union between the body and 
mind, in consequence of which, the one cannot be affected without 
some corresponding change in the other ; a union so difficult to be 
comprehended, although of its reality we have the testimony of our 
daily experience. 

II. Of Imagination in its Relation to some of the Fine Arts. 

269. Among the arts which are connected with the facul- 
ty of Imagination, some not only take their rise from it, but 
produce objects which are directly addressed to this power. 
Others result from Imagination, but produce objects which 
are addressed to the power of perception. 

Illus. 1. Gardening, or the art of creating landscape, belongs to 
the latter of those two classes. For, here, Nature limits the designer 
in his creations ; and his utmost efforts are to correct, to improve, and 
to adorn. In some arts, the designer, to observe the effect of his plans, 
can repeat his experiments ; but the landscape gardener cannot do this, 
and must, therefore, conjure up, in his Imagination, the entire scene 
he intends to produce. His taste and judgment must beforehand be 
applied to this imaginary scene, that he may have a lively conception 
of the effect which it will actually produce when exhibited to the 
senses of others. 

Corol. The landscape thus produced is, therefore, a copy of the pic- 
ture which the artist's Imagination, by the '' prophetic eye of taste," 
had seen, long before all its beauties were born ; and the scene which 
he exhibits, in a finished state, being addressed to the senses, may pro- 
duce its full effect on the minds of others, without any effort on their 
part either of Imagination or of Conception. 

Ohs. The foregoing illustration directs itself merely to the naturaj 
effects produced by a landscape, and the reader is left to supply 



CHAP. IX. Of Imagination. 121 

in his own Imagination, the pJeasure which may result from the acci 
dental association of ideas with a particular scene. 

lllus. 2. The painter who paints a faithful copy of an individual 
object, whether it be a portrait or a landscape, or some particular 
scene for the stage, is not permitted to indulge in imagination. 
But when he conceives some subject for a painting, for which he 
has no copy, the original idea must be formed in the Imagination ; 
and, that the picture may produce the effect on the mind of the 
spectator which the artist has in view, the exercise of Imagination 
must concur with perception. 

Corol. Painting, therefore, has something in common with those 
arts which not only take their rise from the power of Imagination, 
but produce objects which are addressed to it, and with those arts 
also which take their rise from Imagination, but produce objects 
which are addressed to the power of perception. 

lllus. 3. In poetry, and in every species of descriptive composi- 
tion, the power of the Imagination is requisite both to the author 
and the reader ; to the former, to present to the mind of another 
the objects of his own Imagination ; and to the latter, to form in 
his mind a distinct picture of what is described. But no two per- 
sons possess Imagination in the same degree, or those other powers, 
abstraction, conception, and association, on the proper exercise of 
which the full display of Imagination depends ; and, therefore, 
though both may be pleased, the agreeable impressions that each 
may feel, may be widely different from those of the other, according 
as the pictures by which those impressions are produced, may be 
more or less happily imagined. 

4. In landscape gardening, the designs of Kent, of Brown, and of 
Loudon, evince, in their authors, a degree of Imagination analogous 
to that of the descriptive poet ; and whatever they have designed 
meets the eye of every spectator, bating always the beauties and 
pleasures resulting to some individuals from association. But in 
poetry, the reader must actually possess some degree of the author's 
genius, and a mind furnished, by previous habits, with the means of 
interpreting his language, to be able, by his own Imagination, to 
cooperate with the efforts of the author. 

5. In article 195, it was observed, that *' the fluctuating state of 
language does not permit general names always to retain the same 
precise signification ; " and we may here add, that general words, 
which express complex ideas, seldom convey precisely the same 
meaning to different individuals ; hence arises the ambiguity of lan- 
guage, in respect to sensible objects. For who, for example, in a de- 
scriptive composition, attaches the same precise idea to the words 
river, grove, mountain ? The youth, the man of lively Imagination, 
has a very different conception of those words from another youth 
or another man of a blunt Imagination. The former thinks of some 
particular river, grove, mountain, that has made an impression on his 
mind ; the latter, destitute of any such impression, and perhaps a 
native of London, would think of the Thames, Hornsey Wood, and 
the Surrey Hills. The youth who has been educated at Eton, at 
Winchester, or at Harrow, would be in the same predicament 
with him who had received the rudiments of his educaton at West- 
minster. For myself, I ever think with delight of the little Island 



122 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

of Bute, where I was born, and partly educated; its wood-crowned 
hills, its lakes, its rocky coast, its ancient castle, whence the Prince of 
Wales derives the title of Duke of Rothsay ; my ancient and venerable 
masters Macartney and Mackinlay ; the recollection of early friendships 
and all those agreeable ideas associated with the scenes of childhood 
and of youth, rush spontaneously on my mind, and would afford 
many pleasing descriptions were they thrown together in some boyish 
tale. Every man feels the same ; every youth will assent to this ; 
and it sufficiently establishes the position we have in hand, provided 
always common sense be our guide. But, to fill up any descriptive 
picture, both Imagination and Conception are requisite ; hence, those 
who have seen Loch Catherine will be able to judge correctly of 
Walter Scott's description of that charming scene ; and those who 
have visited Florence, Athens, and Rome, as they now are, can judge 
of Lord Byron's pictures of those places, and of their inhabitants. 
And the foregoing reasoning leads to the inference, that in descrip- 
tive composition, much is left to be supplied by the Imagination of 
the reader, on whose mind the effect will be in the direct ratio of his 
own invention and taste to that of the author's, or that with which 
the picture is finished. 

CoroL 1. It is therefore possible, on the one hand^ as is remarked 
by Mr. Stewart, that the happiest efforts of poetical genius may be 
perused with perfect indifference by a man of sound judgment, and 
not destitiUe of natural sensibility, and on the other hand, that a cold 
and common-place description may be the means of awakening, in a 
rich and glowing Imagination, a degree of enthusiasm unknown to 
the author. 

2. The primary object in these arts which we have mentioned, is 
to please; and this circumstance distinguishes poetry from philo- 
sophical compositions, which usually have for their object to inform 
and enlighten mankind ; and also from oratory, whose object is to 
acquire an ascendant over the will of others, by bending to the 
speaker's purposes their judgments, their imaginations, and their 
passions. 

III. The Relation of Imagination and of Taste to Genius. 

270. Persons accustomed to analyze and combine their 
conceptions, may acquire ideas of beauty far above any 
which they have seen realized. A habit of forming such 
mental combinations, and of remarking their effect on our 
own minds, must, therefore, contribute to exalt the Taste to 
a degree which it never can attain in those people who 
study to improve it by the observation and comparison only 
of external objects. (Stewart.) 

Illus. 1. Genius in the fine arts is nothing more than a cultivated 
Taste combined with a creative Imagination. Without Taste,* 
Imagination could only produce a random analysis and combination 
of our conceptions ; and wi :hout Imagination, Taste would be des- 
titute of the faculty of inve ition. These two ingredients of genius 



CHAP. IX. Of Imagination. 123 

may be mixed together in all possible proportions ; and when either 
is possessed in a degree remarkably exceeding what falls to the or- 
dinary share of mankind, it may compensate, in some measure, for a 
deficiency in the other. An uncommonly correct Taste, with little iiu- 
agination, if it does not produce works which excite admiration, pro- 
duces, at least, nothing that can offend. An uncommon fertility of Im- 
agination, even when it offends, excites our wonder by its creative 
powers, and shows what it could have performed, had its exertions 
been guided by a more perfect model. (Stewart.) 

2. In the infancy of the arts, an union of these two powers in the 
same mind is necessary for the production of every work of genius. 
At that period there are no monuments of ancient genius on whicli 
Taste can be formed. It must therefore be from the result of experi- 
ments, which nothing but the Imagination of every individual can 
enable him to make, that Taste can be formed At that period, tliere- 
fore,, Taste, without Imagination, is impossible. But. as experience 
becomes extended, Taste will be acquired, and, as it becomes perfect. 
Imagination will produce more chaste, more beautiful, and more fin- 
ished pictures, or descriptions, or scenes. 

Coro' . Hence, as the productions of genius accumulate. Taste may 
be formed by a careful perusal of the works of others ; and, as former- 
ly Imagination served as a necessary foundation for Taste, so Taste 
now begins to invade the province of Imagination. The multiplicity 
and variety of the combinations, which, for a long succession of 
ages. Imagination has formed, present ample materials for a judicious 
selection. A high standard of excellence is now continually present 
to the artist's thoughts. He may, therefore, by industry, assisted by 
the most moderate degree of Imagination, produce, in time, perform- 
ances not only more free from faults, but incomparably more power- 
ful in their effects, than the most original efforts of untutored genius, 
which, guided by an uncultivated taste, copies after an inferior model 
of perfection. 

IV. Of the Influence of Imagination on Human Character 
and Happiness. 

271. The power of Imagination has been hitherto consid- 
ered chiefly as it is related to the arts of poetry, painting, 
sculpture, and the creation of landscape ; but its powerful 
influence on human character and happiness recommend it 
eminently to the attention of youth 

Illus. The lower animals, says Mr. Stewart, as far as we are able 
to judge, are entirely occupied with the objects of their present per- 
ceptions ; and the case is nearly the same with the inferior orders of 
our own species. One of the principal effects which a liberal educa- 
t'on produces on the mind, is to accustom us to withdraw our atten- 
tion from the objects of sense, and to direct it, at pleasure, to those 
intellectual combinations which delight the Imagination. And, 
among men of cultivated understandings, this faculty is possessed in 
very unequal degrees by different individuals ; and these differences- 



1?4 A Grammar of Logic. book il. 

whether resulting from original constitution, or from early education, 
lay the foundation of some striking varieties in human character. 

272. That sensibility depends, in a great measure, on the 
power of Imagination, will appear evident from the following 
illustration. 

Illus. Point out to two men any object of compassion ; a man, for 
example, reduced by misfortune from easy circumstances to indi- 
gence. The one feels merely in proportion to what he perceives by 
his senses. The other follows, in Imagination, the unfortunate man 
to his dwelling, and partakes with him and his family in their domes- 
tic distresses. He listens to their conversation, while they recall to 
remembrance the flattering prospects they once indulged ; the circle 
of friends they had been forced to leave ; the liberal plans of educa- 
tion which were begun and interrupted ; and pictures to himself all 
the various resources which delicacy and pride suggest to conceal 
poverty from the world. As he proceeds in the painting, his sensi- 
bility increases, and he weeps, not for what he sees, but for what he 
imagines. Granted that his sensibility originally roused his Imagina- 
tion, the warmth of his Imagination increased and prolonged his sen- 
sibility. Let any of my young friends take up the '^ Sentimental 
Journey " of Sterne, and he will find this position verified in numer- 
ous instances. The reflections on the state prisons of France, sug- 
gested by the accidental sight of a starling confined in a cage, is a 
case in point. And I have myself, without a shadow of vanity in 
what I say. had several illustrations of this remark during a residence 
of ten years in the metropolis ; as well among the aged and infirm 
who had seen better days, as among those of my own age, who have 
had the cup of bliss dashed from their lips when they were about to 
sip its nectar. 

273. On some persons, who discover no sensibility to the 
distresses of real life, the exhibitions of fictitious scenes of 
distress produce eifects analogous to those we have illus- 
trated. 

Ilhis. In a novel or a tragedy, the picture is completely finished in 
all its parts ; and we are made acquainted (as in '' The Vicar of 
Wakefield," for example, or '^ King Lear") not only with every 
circumstance On which the distress turns, but with the sentiments and 
feelings of every character, with respect to the situation of that char- 
acter. In real life we see, in general, only detached scenes of the 
tragedy, and the impression is slight, unless Imagination finishes the 
characters, and supplies the incidents which are wanting to make 
them complete. 

274. Imagination, however, does not only increase our 
sensibility to scenes of distress ; it gives us a double share of 
enjoyment in the prosperity of others, and fits us to partici- 
pate, with a more lively interest, in every fortunate incident 
that falls to the lot either of individuals or of communities. 



CHAP. IX. Of Imagination, 125 

Obs. 1. Even from the productions of the earth, and the vicissi- 
tudes of the year, Imagination carries forward our thoughts to the 
enjoyments they bring to the sensitive creation, and by interesting 
our benevolent affections in the scenes we behold, lends a new charm 
to the beauties of nature. In confirmation of this observation, I 
recommend to the student's perusal, Thomson's '^ Seasons," or 
Bloomfield's '' Farmer's Boy." 

2. As to those callous beings who feel wholly for themselves, and 
have no emotions for the fate of others ; who, in fact, evince no 
feeling for the distresses to which humanity is so much a prey ; 
their coldness and selfishness may be traced to a want of attention, 
and a want of Imagination ; and I shall not, therefore, insult the 
mind of generous youth, by portraying principles that bar the heart 
against the eloquent and pathetic language of beggary, famine, dis- 
ease, and all the distress which exists in the world. 

V. On the Culture of the Imagination. 

275. It may be asserted, without fear of contradiction, 
that, with regard to the faculty of Imagination, as with 
regard to all the other endowments of the mind, certain 
degrees of improvement are within the reach of every indi- 
vidual who earnestly endeavors to attain it. 

Illus. In truth, says Professor Jardine, the simple consideration 
that this faculty, like most others, is in a constant state of action, 
necessarily implies the notion of culture and improvement. In very 
young persons, too, its efforts are weak, and its combinations un- 
steady ; but, as the range of knowledge enlarges, and the number of 
ideas is increased, its growing power makes itself manifest in the 
vivid reproductions which it places before the mind, and in the bold- 
ness of its varied creations. 

Example 1. When Philip planned the conquest of Greece, or when 
Scipio and Polybius anticipated the destruction of Carthage, their 
Imaginations must have been strong and steady enough to present, 
before the eye of their minds, extensive combinations of distant events 
respecting the relative state and condition of these nations, and the 
various probabilities which fell within their view. Their Imagina- 
tions could not have performed for them this office when they first 
began to study politics. 

2. When Sir Isaac Newton first began to study astronomy, he 
would probably find it extremely difficult to combine the revolutions 
of the Earth and Moon in their orbits round the Sun ; but, in pro- 
cess of time, his Imagination would, with the utmost ease and steadi- 
ness, place before him the whole solar system, in the order of the 
relative distances, magnitudes, and dependencies of the several planets 
of which it is composed. 

3. When the celebrated Edmund Burke, too, at the very time 
when the greatest part of the learned men of Europe were rejoicing 
at the pleasing jn'ospect opened by the French Revolution, foresaw 
the confusion, anarchy, and bloodshed, ^hat followed so hard upon it, 
ms Imagination must have held up t him a long train of events, 

10 



126 A Grmmuar of Logic. book ii. 

linked together as cause and effect, and must have manifested a 
degree of onergy to which, in the early periods of his life, it would 
have been totally inadequate. 

CoroL These examples make it very obvious that there is a gradual 
progress in the development of this faculty, and, consequently, that 
there is a fair field spread out for the application of culture. 

276. It is well known, from experience, that the activity 
and consequent improvement of the Imagination, depend 
not a little upon the character of the objects with which it is 
first occupied. 

Illus. The great, the sublime, the beautiful, the new, and the un- 
common, in external nature, are not only striking and agreeable in 
themselves, but, by association, these qualities powerfully awaken 
the sensibilities of the heart, and kindle the fires of youthful Imagina- 
tion. On the other hand, there are certain objects so mean, so tame, 
and pursuits so ignoble, amidst which the early years of life are 
sometimes doomed to be spent, as neither to have produced one im- 
pression, nor excited one train of thought, which could ever after- 
wards enter into the conceptions, or aid the fancy, of the painter or 
the poet. (Jardine.) 

CoroL If, therefore, the student shall permit objects which are 
mean, low, or sensual, to usurp possession of his mind ; if the books 
which he reads, and the studies that he pursues, are contaminated 
with gross ideas, he has no right to expect that this omnipotent 
faculty shall ever draw from the polluted treasures of his memory 
any thing noble, useful, or praiseworthy; or that his name shall 
ever be enrolled among those who have delighted, instructed, and 
honored their native land and the world at large : — '^ Out of the ful- 
ness of the heart, the mouth speaketh." 

277. But the Imagination is not only improvable in 
point of vigor and activity ; it likewise admits of culture in 
respect of regularity and chasteness. {CoroL Art. 270.) 

Illus. No faculty is naturally more irregular and rambling in its 
motions, or demands more loudly the control of a governing power. 
Whilst we are awake, indeed, and in a sound state of mind, it is 
kept within some bounds by the presence of- external objects, and by 
the impression derived from them through the medium of the senses ; 
but in a dream, those sentinels being off their guard, we have suf- 
ficient experience of its eccentric flights, and its fantastic combina- 
tions. The first efforts, too, of men of genius, may be compared to 
the curvetings of an unbridled colt, which scampers over the fields, 
spurning all constraint, till its strength is exhausted ; nor is it until 
experience, with its usual accompaniments of improved knowledge 
and enlightened taste, has tamed the impetuosity of youthful feeling, 
that this faculty becomes subjected to those regular movements of 
reason, sensibility, and passion, to which we owe the many fine 
specimens of poetry, eloquence, s'atuary, and painting, that adorn 
the brighter eras of civilized society. (Jardine.) 

Co vol . 1. From the foregoing illr '^trations in this section, it natU' 



CHAP. X. Of Judgment. 127 

rally occurs, as a rational inquiry, whether there might not be con- 
structed such a scheme of discipline and instruction, as would in- 
vigorate and call forth, in regular and systematic exercises, the latent 
powers of Imagination ? The enlightened tutor of a well-adjusted 
plan of education, will find many of the first steps within his reach, 
and the virtuous student will find, in the end, that the company he 
has kept, the conversation he has maintained, and the books he has 
used, are of some avail in influencing his general taste, and in deter- 
mining the bias of fancy, and improving or deteriorating the powers 
of Imagination. 

2. From certain varieties, which no doubt subsist in the original 
constitution of the intellectual powers, from early habits and particu- 
lar associations, the Imagination of some youths may be more early 
directed to sensible or to visible imagery than to other trains of thought ; 
but, in all cases, the Imagination, the active instrument of reproduc- 
tion, is within the reach of culture, when applied properly, and at a 
proper season. Great poets, and illustrious painters, are, it is true, 
distinguished by original differences of activity and strength of Imagi- 
nation ; nor is it less true, on the other hand, that no degree of labor 
or of industry can raise a weak and feeble Imagination to the highest 
degree of poetical or of limning genius ; still, it may be maintained 
(see Corol. Art. 270. Section iii. of this chapter), that, by reasonable 
culture, this power can be made capable of greater efforts, and invest- 
ed with higher qualities, than could arise from the mere natural and 
unimproved endowments. 

This is the opinion of Professor Jardine, and it is supported by the 
authority of Dugald Stewart. See the '^ Outlines of a Philosophical 
Education," by the former, and the " Elements of the Philosophy of 
the Human Mind," ch. vii. vol. 1. by the latter. 



CHAPTER X. 



OF JUDGMENT. 



I. Analysis of this Faculty in general. 

278. Judgment has been defined the faculty by which 
the mind comes to determinations concerning the truth or 
falsehood of any thing that is affirmed or denied. [Art. 97. 
No. X. p. 44.) 

Ohs. As it is impossible, by a definition, to give a notion of color to 
a man who never saw colors, so it is impossible, by any definition, to 
give a distinct notion of Judgment, to a person who has not often 
judged, and who is not capable of reflecting attentively upon this act 
of the mind. The best use of a definition, is to prompt the reader to 
that reflection ; and without it the best definition will be apt to mis- 
lead him. The definition we have given is confirmed by the following 
illustrations 



128 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

Illus. 1. True it is, that by affirmation or denial, we express our 
judgments ; but there may be judgments which are not expressed. 
Judgment is a solitary act of the mind, and the expression of it, by 
affirmation or denial, is not at all essential to it. It may be tacit, and 
not expressed. Nay, it is well known, that men. may judge contrary 
to what they affirm or deny ; the definition must, therefore, be under- 
stood of mental affirmation or denial, which indeed is only another 
name for Judgment. (See Illus. Art. 28.) 

2. The affirming or denying of a thing, is very often the expression 
of testimony^ which is a direct act of the mind, and ought to be dis- 
tinguished from Judgment. 

Example. A judge asks a witness what he knows of such a matter, 
to which he was an eye or an ear witness. The witness answers by 
affirming or denying something. But his answer does not express his 
Judgment; it is his testimojiy. Again, you ask a man his opinion in 
a matter of science, or of criticism. His answer is not testimony ; it 
is the expression of his judgment. Thus, testimony is distinguished 
^rom judgment. (See Illus. 2. Art. 116.) 

Ulus. 3. Testimony is a social act, and it is essential to this act 
that it be expressed by words or signs. A tacit testimony is a contra- 
diction ; but there is no contradiction in a tacit Judgment : it is com- 
plete, without being expressed. In testimony, a man pledges his 
veracity for what he affirms ; so that a false testimony is a lie ; but 
diwrong judgment is not a lie; it is only an error. In the structure 
of all languages, says Dr. Reid, testimony and judgment are express- 
ed by the same form of speech. A proposition, affirmative or negative, 
with a verb in what is called the indicative mood, expresses both. 
(See Art. 25.) ^ ^ 

4. Although men must have judged m many cases betere tribu- 
nals of justice were erected, yet it is very probable that there were 
tribunals before men began to speculate about Judgment, and that the 
word may be borrowed from the practice of tribunals. As a judge, 
after taking the proper evidence, passes sentence, in a cause, and that 
SENTENCE is called his J2idgment, so the mind, with regard to what- 
ever is true or Mse, passes sentence, or determines according to the 
evidence that is before it. Some kinds of evidence leave no room for 
doubt, and sentence is passed immediately, without seeking or hear- 
ing any contrary evidence, because the thing is certain and notorious. 
In other cases, there is room for weighing evidence, on both sides, 
before sentence is passed. 

Corol. The analogy between a tribunal of justice and this inward 
tribunal of the mind, is too obvious to escape the notice of any man 
who ever appeared before a judge ; and we may thence infer, that the 
word Judgment, as well as many other words which we use in speak- 
ing of this operation of the mind, are grounded on this analogy. (See 
Chapter IV. Book I.) 

279. In Article 140, we pointed out the distinction be- 
tween conception, as used in Chapter V. of this book, and 
simple apprehension, which, in the language of the school- 
men, includes our apprehension of general propositions. 
Judgment is an act of the mind specifically different from 



CHAP. X. Of Judgment. 129 

simple apprehension, or the bare conception of a thing. 
(See Illus. Art. 25.) 

Illua. Although there can be no Judgment without a conception of 
the things about which we judge, yet conception may be without any 
Judgment. Judgment can be expressed by a proposition only^ and a 
proposition is a complete sentence; but simple apprehension may be 
expressed by" a word, or words, which make no complete sentence. 
When simple apprehension is employed about a proposition, every 
man knows that it is one thing to apprehend a proposition, that is, to 
conceive what it means ; but it is quite another thing to judge it to be 
true or false. (Illus. Art. 28.) 

280. Every Judgment must be either true or false, but 
simple apprehension can neither be true nor false. (See 
Corol Art. 52.), 

Illus. One Judgment may be contradictory to another ; and it is 
impossible for a man to have, at the same time, two Judgments, which 
he perceives to be contradictory. But contradictory propositions may 
be conceived at the same time without any difficulty. That the Sun 
is greater than the Earth, and that the Sun is not greater than the 
Earth, are contradictory propositions. He that apprehends the mean- 
ing of the one apprehends the meaning of both. But it is impossible 
for him to judge both to be true at the same time. He knows that if 
one ic true, the other is false. 

Corol. For these reasons, we hold it to be certain, that Judgment 
and simple apprehension are acts of the mind specifically different. 
(See Art. 279.) 

281. There are notions, or ideas, that ought to be refer- 
red to the faculty of Judgment as their source ; because, if 
we had not this faculty, they could not enter into our minds ; 
and to all those that have this faculty, and are capable 
of reflecting upon its operations, they are obvious and fa- 
miliar. « 

Illus. Among these we may reckon the notion of Judgment itself; 
the notions of a proposition, of its subject, of its predicate, and of 
its copula ; — of affirmation and negation, of true and false, of knowl- 
edge, belief, disbelief, opinion, assent, evidence. From no source 
could we acq aire these notions, but from reflecting upon our judg- 
ments. Relations of things make one great class of our notions, or 
ideas ; and we cannot have the idea of any relation, without some ex- 
ercise of Judgment. 

282. In persons come to years of understanding, Judg- 
ment necessarily accompanies all sensation, perception by 
the senses, consciousness, and memory. 

Obs. Infants and idiots are of course excluded in the consideration 
of this position. 

Illus. 1. In persons having the exercise of Judgment, it is evident, 
♦hat the man who feels pain, judges and believes that he is really 

10* 



130 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

pained. (See Ilfus. Art. 39.) The man who perceives an object be- 
lieves that it exists, and that it is what he distinctly perceives it to be ; 
nor is it in his power to avoid such a Judgment. And the same may 
be affirmed of Memory, and of Consciousness. 

2. Whether Judgment ought to be called a necessary concomitant 
of these operations, or rather a part or ingredient of them, enters not 
into the illustration before us ; but it is certain, that all of them are 
accompanied with a determination and a consequent belief that some- 
thing is true or false. If this determination be not Judgment, it is an 
operation that has received no name by philosophers ; for it is not 
simple apprehension, neither is it reasoning ; it is a mental affirmation 
or negation ; it may be expressed by a proposition affirmative or nega- 
tive, and it is accompanied vvith the firmest belief. These are the 
characteristics of Judgment. 

283. The judgments which we form are either of things 
necessary, or of things contingent. 

Illus. 1. That three times three are nine ; that the whole is great- 
er than its part ; — are judgments about things necessary. Our as- 
sent to such necessary propositions is not grounded upon any opera- 
tion of sense, of memory, or of consciousness, nor does it require their 
concurrence ; it is unaccompanied by any other operation but that 
of conception, which must accompany all Judgment. (See Jlrt. 147. 
Illus. 1.) 

2. Our Judgment of things contingent must always rest upon some 
other operation of the mind, such as sense, or memory, or conscious- 
ness, or credit in testimony, which is itself grounded upon sense. 
That 1 now write upon a desk covered with green baize, is a contin- 
gent event, which I judge to be most undoubtedly true. My Judg- 
ment is grounded upon my perception (Jlrt. 23.), and is a necessary 
concomitant, or ingredient, of my perception. That I yesterday dined 
with such a person, 1 judge to be true, because I remember it, and my 
Judgment necessarily goes along with this remembrance, or makes a 
part of it. (See Art. 49.) 

284. There are m^^ny forms of speech in common lan- 
guage which show that the senses, memory , and consciousness, 
are considered as judging facvlties. 

Illus. We say that a man judges of colors by his eye, of sounds by 
his ear. We speak of the evidence of sense (Corol. Art. 12]), the 
evidence of memory (Art. 243. Illus.), and the evidence of conscious- 
ness (Corol. Art. 101). Evidence is the basis of Judgment ; and when 
we see evidence, it is impossible not to judge. 

Corol. 1. Hence, w^hen we speak of seeing or remembering any 
thing, we hardly ever add that we judge it to be true ; because such 
an addition would be a superfluity of speech. And, for the same rea- 
son, in speaking of what is self-evident, or strictly demonstra,ted, we 
do not say that we judge it to be true. Hence the grammarians 
say, that to see icith the eyes, is a tautology ; and they are perfectly 
correct. 

2. There is, therefore, good reason why, in speaking or writing, 
Judgment should not b expressly mentioned, when all men Know 



CHAP. X. Of Judgment. 131 

it to be necessarily implied ; that is to say, when there can be no 
doubt. The bare mention of the evidence is all that' men require ) but 
when the evidence mentioned leaves room for doubt, then, without any 
superfluity, or tautology, we say we judge the thing to be so, because 
this is not implied in what was said before. 

285. The judgments grounded upon the evidence of sense, 
of memory, and of consciousness, are called judgments of 
nature, because she has subjected us to them, whether we 
will or not, — because she has thus put all men upon a level 
[Art. 121. CoroL), and thus deprived the philosopher of any 
prerogative above the illiterate, or even above the savage. 
Belief in our senses, and in our memory, is not learned by 
culture. It is necessary to all men for their being and pres- 
ervation, and therefore is unconditionally given to all men by 
the Author of Nature. 

II. Of the Exercise of Judgment in the Formation of ab- 
stract and general Conceptions. 

286. That some exercise of Judgment is necessary in the 
formation of all abstract and general conceptions, whether 
more simple or more complex in dividing, in defining, and, 
in general, in forming all clear and distinct conceptions of 
things, which are the only fit materials of all reasoning, we 
shall now proceed to illustrate. 

Obs. These operations are allied to each other, and have, therefore, 
been brought under one article ; but they are more allied to our 
rationa' nature than those considered in the last section, and are 
therefore to be considered by themselves. And, that the illustrations 
we are to offer may not be mistaken for what they really are not, we 
take leave to premise, that it is not meant to be affirmed that abstract 
notions, or other accurate notions of things, after they have been 
formed, cannot be barely conceived without any exercise of Judg- 
ment about them. All that is meant by the position laid down in the 
article now in hand, is, that, in the formation, at first, of those '' ab- 
stract and general conceptions " of the mind, there must be some exer- 
cise of Judgment. 

Illus. 1. It is impossible to distinguish the different attributes be- 
longing to the same subject, without judging that they are really dif- 
ferent and distinguishable, and that they have that relation to the sub- 
ject which logicians express by saying that they may be predicated 
of it. We cannot generalize, without judging that the same attribute 
does, or may, belong to many individuals. {Art. 188.) Our simplest 
general notions are formed by distinguishing and generalizing ; hence 
we ma}^ infer that Judgment is exercised in forming the simplest gen- 
eral notions. 

2. In those that are more complex, and which have been shown to 
be formed by combining the more simple, there is another act of the 



132 A Grammar of Logic, book ij. 

Judgment required ; for such combinations are not made at random, 
but for an end, and Judgment is employed in fitting them to that end. 
We form complex general notions for the conveniency of arranging 
our thoughts in discourse and reasoning ; and therefore, of an infinite 
number of combinations that might be formed, we choose only those 
that are useful and necessary. 

287. That Judgment must be employed in dividing, as 
well as in distinguishing, appears evident. It is one thing to 
divide a subject properly, another to cut it to pieces. Hoc 
non est dividere, sed frangere rem,, said Cicero, when he 
censured the improper division of Epicurus. 

liius Reason, as we shall see by and bye, has discovered rules of 
division, which have been known to logicians for more than two thou- 
sand years. There are rules, likewise, of definition, of no less anti- 
quity and authority. A man may, no doubt, divide or define properly 
without attending to these rules, or even without knowing them ; but 
this can only be when he has Judgment to perceive that to be right in 
a particular case, which the rule determines to be right in all cases. 

Carol. What has now been advanced, leads to the inference that, 
without some degree of Judgment, we can form no accurate and dis- 
tinct notions of things ; so that one province of Judgment is to aid 
us in forming clear and distinct conceptions of things, which are the 
only fit materials for reasoning. 

288. The necessity of some degree of Judgment, to have 
clear and distinct conceptions of things, may thus be illus- 
trated, even to the philosophers, who have always considered 
the formation of ideas of every kind as belonging to simple 
apprehension, and that the sole province of Judgment is to 
put them together in affirmative or negative propositions. 

Illus. An artist (suppose a carpenter) cannot work in his art with- 
out tools; and these tools must be made by art. The exercise of the 
art, therefore; is necessary to make the tools, and the tools are neces- 
sary to the exercise of the art ; and this is illustrative of the necessity 
of some degree of Judgment in order to form clear and distinct con- 
ceptions of things. These are the tools which we must use in judg- 
ing and reasoning, and without them our work must be very bungling 
indeed ; yet these tools cannot be made without some exercise of 
Judgment. 

289. The necessity of some degree of Judgment, in form- 
ing accurate and distinct notions of things, will further ap- 
pear, if we consider attentively what notions we can 
form, without any aid of Judgment, of the objects of sense, 
of the operations of our own minds, or of the relations of 
things. 



CHAP X. Of Tudgment. 133 

(i.) To begin with the objects of sense. 

290. It is acknowledged, on all hands, that the first no- 
tions we have of sensible objects are acquired by the exter- 
nal senses only, and probably before Judgment is brought 
forth ; but these first notions are neither simple, nor are they 
accurate and distinct. They are gross and indistinct, and, 
like a chaos, an indigested heap of rude materials. Before 
we can have any distinct notion of this mass, it must be an- 
alyzed ; the heterogeneous parts must be separated in our 
conception, and the simple elements, which before lay hid in 
the common mass, must first be distinguished, and then put 
together into one whole. 

Illus. In this way it is that we form distinct notions even of the 
objects of sense ; but this analysis and composition become so easy 
by habit, and can be thence performed so readily, that we are apt 
to overlook it, and to impute the distinct notion we have formed of 
the object, to the senses alone ; and this we are the more prone to 
do, because, when once we have distinguished the sensible qualities 
of the object from one another, the sense gives testimony to each of 
them. 

Example. Suppose a cube of brass to be presented at the same time 
to a child of a year old and to a man. The regularity of the figure 
will attract the attention of both. Both have the sensations of sight 
and of touch in equal perfection ; and, therefore, if any thing be dis- 
covered in this object by the man, which cannot be discovered by the 
child, it must be owing, not to the senses, but to some other faculty, 
which the child has not yet attained. 

Illus. 1. First, then, the man can easily distinguish the body from 
the surface that terminates it : this the child cannot do. Secondly, the 
man can perceive, that this surface is made up of six planes of the 
same figure and magnitude ; the child cannot discover this. Thirdly, 
the man perceives that each of these planes has four equal sides, and 
four angles ; and that the opposite sides of each plane, and the oppo- 
site planes, are parallel. (See Illus. 1. .9rt. 183.) 

2. It will surely be allowed, that a man of ordinary Judgment may 
observe all this in a cube which he makes an object of contemplation, 
and takes time to consider ; that he may give the name of a square to 
a plane terminated by four equal sides and four equal angles ; and the 
name of a cube, to a solid terminated by six equal squares ; all this, 
then, is nothing else but analyzing the figure of the object presented to 
his senses into its simplest elements, and again compounding it of 
those elements. 

3. By this analysis and composition tioo effects are produced. First, 
from the one complex object which his senses presented to his mind, 
though one of the most simple tne senses can present, he educes 
many simple and distinct notions of right lines, angles, plane sur- 
face, solid, equality, parallelism ; notions which the child has not 
yet faculties to attain. Secondly, when the man considers the cube 
as compounded of these elements, put together in a certain order, 



134 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

he has then, and not before, a distinct and scientific notion of a 
cube. The child neither conceives those elements, nor in what or- 
der they must be put together, so as to make a cube ; and therefore 
of a cube he has no accurate notion which can make it a subject of 
reasoning. 

Curol. Whence we may conclude, that the notions which we have 
from the senses alone, even of the simplest object of sense, are in- 
distinct, and incapable of being either described or reasoned upon, 
until the object is analyzed into its simple elements, and consid- 
ered as compounded of those elements. (See Illus. and Coral. 
Art. 188.) 

Illus. 4. And if we should apply this reasoning to more complex 
objects of sense, the conclusion is still more evident. 

Exam])lc. A dog may be taught to turn a jack, but he can never 
be taught to have a distinct notion of a jack. He sees every part of 
it as well as a man ; but the relation of the parts to one another, and 
to the whole, he has not Judgment to comprehend. (See Illus. 6. 
Jlrt. 192.) 

Illus. 5. A distinct notion of an object, even of sense, is never got 
in an instant ; but the sense performs its office in an instant. Time is 
not required to sec it better, but to analyze it, to distinguish the differ- 
ent parts, and their relation to one another, and to the whole. 

Corol. Hence it is, that when any vehement passion or emotion 
hinders the cool application of Judgment, we get no distinct notion of 
an object, even though the sense be long directed to it. 

Example. A man who is put into a panic, by thinking he sees a 
ghost, may stare very long, without having any distinct notion of 
what he fancies he beholds ; it is his understanding, and not his sense, 
that is disturbed hy his horror. If he can lay that aside, Judgment 
immediately enters upon its office, and examines the length and 
breadth, the color and figure, and distance of the object. Of these, 
while his panic lasted, he had no distinct notion, though his eyes were 
open all the time. 

Illus. 6. When the visual organ is open, but the Judgment dis- 
turbed by a panic, or any violent emotion that engrosses the mind, 
we see things confusedly, and probably much in the same manner 
that brutes and perfect idiots do, and infants also before the use of 
Judgment. 

Corol. There are, therefore, notions of the objects of sense, which 
are gross and indistinct, and there are others which are distinct and 
scientific. The former may be acquired from the senses alone ; but 
the latter cannot be obtained without some degree of Judgment. 

291. (ii.) Having said so much on the notions which we 
acquire of the objects of sense from the senses alone, let us 
next consider what notions we can have of the operations of 
our minds, from consciousness alone. 

Illus. Consciousness is an internal sense, (Art. 24.) that gives 
the like immediate knowledge of things in the mind, that is, of our 
own thoughts and feelings (Illus. Art, IOC , as the senses give 



OHAP. X. Of Judgment. 135 

us of things external. (Art. 103.) There is this difference, however, 
that an external object may be at rest, and the sense may be 
employed about it for some time. {Jllus. Art. 115.) But the ob- 
jects of consciousness are never at rest; the stream of thought 
flows like a river, without stopping for one moment; the whole 
train of thought passes in succession under the eye of conscious- 
ness, which is always employed about the present. But is it con- 
sciousness that analyzes complex operations, distinguishes their 
different ingredients, and combines them in distinct parcels, under 
general names.? — No. — {Art. 24. and Illus. Art. 48.) — This is not 
the work of consciousness, nor can it be performed without reflec- 
tion {Art. 51.), recollecting and judging of what we were conscious, 
and what we distinctly remember. This reflection does not appear 
in children, and, of all the powers of the mind, it comes latest to 
maturity, whereas consciousness is coeval with the earliest. {Ohs. 
Art. 102. and Illus. Art. 129.) But this subject has been so suffi- 
ciently handled in the fifth Chapter of Book I. that further proofs in 
this place are unnecessary. 

292. (hi.) We proposed, in the third place, to consider 
our notions of the relations of things ; and here it appears, 
that without Judgment we cannot have any notion of 
relations. 

Illus. 1. There are two ways in which we acquire the notion of 
relations. The first is, by comparing the related objects, of which 
we have before had the conception. By this comparison we perceive 
the relation, either immediately, or by a process of reasoning. 

Examples. That the fifth finger of my hand is shorter than the 
middle finger, I perceive immediately : as well as that three is the 
half of six. This instantaneous perception is immediate and intui- 
tive Judgment. (See Art. 114. and 118.) The angles at the base 
of an isosceles triangle are equal, I perceive by a process of reason- 
ing, in which it will be acknowledged that there is Judgment. 
(See Illus. Art. 119.) 

Illus. 2. Another way in which we get the notions of relations 
is, when, by attention to one of the related objects, we perceive, or 
judge, that it must, from its nature, have a certain relation to some- 
thing else, which before perhaps we never thought of; and thus our 
attention to one of the related objects produces the notion of a corre- 
late, and of a certain relation between them. 

Example. Thus, when you attend to color, figure, weight, you 
cannot help judging these to be qualities which cannot exist with- 
out a subject {Illus. Art. 18.) ; that is, something which is colored, 
figured, heavy. (See Elus. Art. 182.) If you had not perceived 
such things to be qualities, you would never have had any notion 
of their subject, or of their relation to it. (See the Illustrations to 
Article 195.) 

nius. 3. By attending to the operations of thinking, memory, 
reasoning, we perceive, or judge, that there must be something 
which thinks, remembers, and reasons ; and this something we call 
*hp mind. {Art. 5.) When we attend to any change that happens 
'n nature, Judgment informs us, that there must be a cause of thi» 



136 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

change^ which had power to produce it; and thus we get the notions 
of cause and effect, and of the relation between them. (See £rt. 13 
Jllus. }, 2, 3.) When we attend to body, we perceive that it cannot 
exist without space ; hence we get the notion of space, which is nei- 
ther an object of sense nor of consciousness, and of the relation which 
bodies have to a certain portion of unlimited space, as their place. 
(See Art. 244. Illus. 3 and 4.) 

Carol. All our notions, therefore, of relations, may more properly 
be ascribed to Judgment, as their source, and origin, than to any 
other power of the mind. For we must first perceive relations by our 
Judgment, before we can conceive them without judging of them ; 
as we must first perceive colors by sight, before we can conceive 
them without seeing them. 

Illus. 4. The relations of unity and number are so abstract, that 
it is impossible they should enter into the mind until it has some 
degree of Judgment. We see with what difficulty, and how slowly, 
children learn to use, with understanding, the names even of small 
numbers, and how they exult in this acquisition whenever they 
have attained it. Every number is conceived by the relation which 
it bears to unity, or to known combinations of units; and, upon that 
account, as well as on account of its abstract nature, all distinct 
notions of it require some degree of Judgment. 

Corol. In Chapter IX. of this Book, it was clearly shown how 
much Judgment enters, as an ingredient, into all determinations of 
Taste; and in Chapter XII. we shall have occasion to show, that, in 
all moral determinations, and in many of our passions and affections, 
Judgment is a necessary concomitant; so that this faculty, after we 
come to those years in which reason exercises its powers, mingles 
with most of the operations of our minds, and, in analyzing them, 
cannot be overlooked without confusion and error. 



CHAPTER XL 

OF REASON. 

I. Definition and Analysis of this Faculty. 

293. Reason is the faculty by which we are made ac- 
quainted with abstract or necessary truth, and enabled to 
discover the essential relations of things. 

Ohs. The power of Reasoning is very nearly allied to that of 
judging ; and, in the common affairs of life, the same term is applied 
to both. We include both under the name of Reason. 

Illus. The distinction that has, been made between Judgment and 
Reasoning, is not, perhaps, founded so much in any natural diversity 
of the nature or the objects of the faculties, as in the various manne« 
in which the same faculty is occasionally applied. This, thej^ 



CHAP. XI. Of Reason. 137 

seems to be the foundation of the distinction. "When the truth which 
is asserted, or the falsity wliich is denied, is perfectly obvious, and re- 
quires little or no examination, the faculty is then commonly called 
Judgment (Art. 278. lUus. 1.) ; but, when the truth which is asserted, 
or the falsity which is denied, is more remote from common apprehen- 
sion, and requires a careful examination, the faculty has then been 
dignified with the name of Reasoning. 

Corol. 1. Reisonlng being, then, the process by which we pass from 
one judgment to another, which is a consequence of the preceding, our 
judgments are distinguished into Intuitive, which are not ground- 
ed upon any preceding judgment, and Discursive, which are deduced 
from some preceding judgment by Reasoning. 

2. In all Reasoning, therefore, there must be a proposition inferred, 
and one or more from which it is inferred; and this power of infer- 
ring, or drawing a conclusion, is only another name for Reasoning, the 
proposition inferred being called the eonclusion, and the proposition or 
propositions from which that conclusion has been inferred being called 
the premises. 

294. Reasoning may consist of many steps, the first con- 
clusion being a premise to the second, the second to a 
third, and so on, till we come to the last* conclusion. A pro- 
cess, consisting of many steps of this kind, is so easily dis- 
tinguished from Judgment, that it is never called by that 
name ; but when there is only a single step to the conclu- 
sion, the distinction is less obvious, and the process is, as we 
have shown above, sometimes called Judgment, sometimes 
Reasoning. 

Obs. The Logicians themselves, as well as the illiterate, sometimes 
confound judgment with Reasoning, though their definition of lothbe, 
in general terms, what we have now (Art. 294.) expressed. So vari- 
ous, indeed, are the modes of speech, that what, in one mode, is ex- 
pressed by two or three propositions, may, in another, be expressed 
by one. 

Example. Thus, I may say, God is good; therefore all good 7nen 
shall he happy. This species of Reasoning the Logicians call an En- 
thymeme, as it consists of an antecedent proposition, and a conclusion 
drawn from it. But this reasoning may be expressed by one proposi- 
tion, thus : Because God is good, good men shall be happy. This other 
species of Reasoning they call a casual proposition, which, therefore, 
expresses judgment ; yet the Enthymeme, which is Reasoning, ex- 
presses no more. 

295. Reasoning, as well as Judgment, must be true or 
false (Art. 45.) ; both are founded upon evidence, which 
maybe probable or demonstrative {A7^t. 302.), and both 
are accompanied with assent or belief. {Illus. Ar^t. 48.) 

Obs. What Reasoning is, can be understood only by a man who 
has reasoned, and who is capable of reflecting upon the operations 



138 A Gr-ammar of Logic, book ii 

af his own mind. We can define it only by synonymous words, oi 
phrases, such as inferring, drdicing a conclusion, and such like. 

Corol. The very notion, therefore, of Reasoning, can enter into the 
mind by no other channel than that of reflecting upon the operation 
of Reasoning- in our own minds; and the notions of Premises ^ndi Con- 
clusions, of a Syllogism and all its constituent parts, of an Entltymenie, 
of Sorites, Demonstration, Paralogism, and many other technical terms 
of logic, have the same origin. 

296. The faculty of Reasoning is undoubtedly the gift 
of Nature ; and in vain shall we attempt to supply the want 
of this gift where it is not, by art or education. In different 
individuals this faculty will be found in different degrees ; 
yet the power of Reasoning seems to be acquired by habit, 
as much as the power of walking, running, or swimming. 

Rlus. We are not ab'e to recollect its first exertions in ourselves, nor 
clearly to discern them in others, because they are then feeble, and 
need to be led by example, and supported by authority ; but, by de- 
grees, the faculty acquires strength, chiefly by means of imitation and 
exercise. 

297. The exercise of Reasoning on various subjects, not 
only strengthens the faculty, but furnishes the mind with 
stores of materials. 

Illus. 1. Every train of Reasoning, which is familiar, becomes a 
beaten track, or pathway of many others ; it removes many obstacles 
which lie in our way, and smooths many roads which we may have 
occasion to travel, in future disquisitions. 

2. When men of equal parts apply their reasoning powers to any 
subject, the man who has reasoned much on the same, or on similar 
subjects, has a like advantage over him who has not, as the mechanic 
who has all the tools of his art, has over him who has his tools to 
make, or even to invent. 

298. In a train of Reasoning, tlie evidence of every step, 
where nothing is left to be supplied by the reader or the 
hearer, must he immediately discernible to every man of ripe 
understanding, who has a distinct comprehension of the 
premises and conclusions, and who compares them together. 

Obs. To be able to comprehend, in one view, a combination of steps 
of this kind, is more diflicult, and seems to require a superior natural 
ability ; yet, in all of us, it may be much improved by habit. 

299. But the highest talent in reasoning is the Invention 
of proofs, by which truths remote from the premises are 
brought to light. 

Obs. In all works of understanding. Invention has the highe&t 
praise {Art. 26. Illus.) ; it requires an extensive view of what relates 
to the subject, and a quickness in discerning those affinities and rela- 
tions which may be subservient to the purpose. (See Art. 264. //to, 
1 and 2. and Corol. 1 and 2.) 



CHAP. XI. Of Reason. 139 

300. In all Invention there must be some end in view ; 
and Sagacity in finding out the road that leads to that end, 
IS, properly speaking, what we call Invention. 

Obs. In this chiefly, and in clear and distinct conceptions, consists 
that superiority of understanding which we have called Genius. (See 
Art. 265. Illus.) 

301. In every chain of Reasoning, the evidence of the 
last conclusion can be no greater than that of the weakest 
link of the chain, whatever may be the strength of the rest. 
(See Art. 294. Ohs. and Example.) 

302. Reasonings are either probable or demonstrative. 
(See Art. 295. Illus.) 

I. In every step of Demonstrative Reasoning, the inference 
is necessary, and we perceive it to be impossible that the 
conclusion should not follow from the premises. 

II. In Prohahle Reasoning, the connection between the 
premises and the conclusion is not necessary, nor do we 
perceive it to be impossible that the Jirst should be true 
while the last is false. 

Carol. Hence Demonstrative Reasoning has no degrees, nor can one 
demonstration be stronger than another, though, in relation to our 
faculties, one may be more easily comprehended than another. Every 
demonstration gives equal strength to the conclusion, and leaves no 
possibility of its being false. 

II. Analysis of Demonstrative Reasoning. 

303. Demonstrative Reasoning can be applied only 
to truths that are necessary, and not to those that are con- 
tingent. 

Ohs. Of all created things, the existence, the attributes, and, con- 
sequently, the relations resulting from those attributes, are contingent 
They depend on the power and will of him who made them. These 
are matters of fact, and admit not of demonstration. 

Corol. The field of Demonstrative Reasoning, therefore^ is the 
various relations of things abstract ; that is to say, of things which 
we conceive, without regard to their existence. We have a clear 
and adequate comprehension of these, as they are conceived by the 
mind, and are nothing but what they are conceived to be. Their re- 
lations and attributes are immutable. 

Ohs. 1. They are the things to which the Pythagoreans and Pla- 
tonists gave the name of ideas; and, if we take leave to borrow this 
meaning of the word idea from those ancient philosophers, we must 
then agree with them that ideas are the only objects about which we 
can reason demonstratively. 

2. There are many even of our ideas about which we can carry 
on no considerable train of reasoning ; let them be ever so well de- 
fined, ever so perfectly comprehended, their agreements and disa- 
greements are few, and these are discernible at once. A step o' 



140 A GramnvJir sf Logic, book ii. 

tv/o brings us to the conclusion, and there we are stopped. (£2:- 
arnple 294.) There are others, about which we may. by a long train 
of Demonstrative Reasoning, arrive at conclusions very remote and 
unexpected 

304. Demonstrative Reasonings are reducible to two 
classes : 

I. They are either Metaphysical, 

II. Or they are Mathematical. 

lUus. 1. In Metaphysical Reasoning, the process is always short. 
The conclusion is but a step or two, seldom more, from the first prin- 
ciple, or axiom, on which it is grounded, and the different conclusions 
depend one upon another. 

2. In Mathematical Reasoning, on the contrary, the field has no 
limits. One proposition leads on to a second, that to a third, and 
so on, without end. And the reason why Demonstrative Reasoning 
has such extensive limits in the Mathematics is owing chiefly to 
the nature of quantity, which is the object of Mathematical Rea- 
soning. 

Example 1. Every quantity, as it has inagnitude, and is divisible 
into parts without end; so, in respect of its magnitude, it has a cer- 
tain ratio to every quantity of that kind. The ratios of quantities 
are innumerable ; such as a half, a third, a fourth, a tenth, double, 
triple, quadruple, centuple, and so on. All the powers of number are 
insufficient to express the varieties of ratios. For there are innume- 
rable ratios which cannot be expressed perfectly by numbers ; such 
as, the ratio of the side to the diagonal of a square, of the circum- 
ference of a circle to its diameter. And, of this infinite variety of 
ratios, every ratio may be clearly conceived, and distinctly expressed, 
so that it shall not be mistaken for any other. 

2. Extended quantities, such as lines, surfaces, solids, besides 
the variety of relations they have in respect of magnitude, have no 
less variety in respect of figure ; and every Mathematical figure 
may be accurately defined, so as to be distinguished from every 
other figure. 

Rlus. 3. There is nothing of this kind in other objects of Abstract 
Reasoning. Some of them have various degrees ; but these are not 
capable of measure, nor can they be said to have an assignable ratio 
to others of the kind. They are either simple, or compounded of a 
few indivisible parts ; and, therefore, if we may be allowed the ex- 
pression, touch only in a few points. But Mathematical quantities, 
being made up of parts without number, can touch in innumerable 
points, and be compared in iimumerable different ways. 

305. Some Demonstradons are called Direct, others J/^. 
direct. 

Rlus. 1. Every youth acquainted with the elements of EucHd, 
knows that Direct Demonstration leads straight forward to the con- 
clusion to be drawn, while the Indirect arrives at the proof by a propo- 
sition contradictory to that which is to be proved. The inference 
drawn from demonstration ad absurdum, is grounded on an axiom in 
logic, '■' That of two contradictory propositions, if one be false, the 
other must be true." 



CHAP. XI. Of Reason. 141 

2. Another kind of Indirect Demonstration proceeds by enume- 
rating all the suppositions that can possibly be made concerning the 
proposition to be proved, and then demonstrating, that, except that 
which is to be proved, all of them are false ; whence it follows, that 
the excepted proposition is true. 

Example. Thus one line is proved to be equal to another, by 
proving first that it cannot be greater ; and then that it cannot be 
less ; for it must be either greater, or less, or equal ', and two of 
these suppositions being demonstrated to be false, the third must 
he true. 

III. Analysis of Probable Reasoning. 

306. The field of Demonstration, as has been shown., is 
necessary truth ; the field of probable reasoning is con- 

Jingent truth, not what necessarily must be at all times, but 
what 25, or was, or shall be. 

307. No contingent truth is capable of strict Demonstra- 
tion ; but necessary truths may sometimes have probable 
evidence. 

nius. 1. Dr. Wallis discovered many important truths, by that 
kind of induction which draws a general conclusion from particular 
premises. This is not strict Demonstration, but in some cases, it 
gives as full conviction as Demonstration itself; and a man may be 
certain, that a truth is demonstrable before it ever has been demon- 
strated. {Art. 133. Illus.) In other cases, a Mathematical proposi- 
tion may have such probable evidence from induction or analogy, 
as encourages the mathematician to investigate its Demonstration. 
{Illus. 2. Art. 304.) But still the Reasoning proper to Mathematical 
and other necessary truths, is Demonstration ; and that which is 
proper to contingent truths, is Probable Reasoning. 

2. These two kinds of Reasoning differ in other respects. First. 
In Demonstrative Reasoning, one argument is as good as a thousand. 
One Demonstration may be more elegant than another ; it may be 
more easily comprehended, or it may be more subservient to some 
purpose beyond the present. On any of these accounts it may de- 
serve a preference. But, then, it is sufficient by itself; it needs no 
aid from another ; it can receive none. To add more Demonstrations 
of the same conclusion, would be a kind of tautology in Reasoning ; 
because one Demonstration, clearly comprehended, gives all the 
Evidence we are capable of receiving. 

Secondly. The strength of Probable Reasoning, for the most part, 
depends not upon any one argument, but upon* many, which unite 
their force, and lead to the same conclusion. Anyone of them by 
itself would be insufficient to convince ; but the whole taken to- 
gether may have a force that is irresistible, so that to desire more 
Evidence would be absurd. Who, for example, would seek new 
arguments to prove that there were such persons as Maria Antoi- 
nette and Queen Charlotte ; or Charles the First and Oliver Crom- 
well ? 

Corol. Such Evidence of Probable Reasoning may be compared 



142 A Grammar of Logic. book ii 

to a rope made up of many slender filaments twisted together. — 
The rope has strength more than sufficient to bear the stress laid 
upon it, though no one of the filaments of which it is composed 
would be sufficient of itself for that purpose. 

308. It is unreasonable to require Demonstration for 
things which do not admit of it ; nor is it less unreasonable 
to require Reasoning of any kind for things which are known 
without Reasoning. All Reasoning must be grounded upon 
truths which are known without Reasoning. 

Illus. In every branch of real knowledge, there must be first 
principles^ the truth of which is known intuitively, without Reason- 
ing, either Probable or Demonstrative. (£rt. 45.) They are not 
grounded on Reasoning, but all Reasoning is grounded on them. 
There a-ie first principles of necessary truths (Illus. 1. and 2, ^rt. 52.) 
and first principles of contingent truths. {Ohs. and Corol. Art. 60.) 
Demonstrative Reasoning is grounded upon the former^ and Probable 
Reasoning upon the latter. 

309. Probable Evidence has a popular meaning, which 
we must not confound with the philosophical meaning above 
explained. 

Illus. 1. In common language. Probable Evidence is considered 
as an inferior degree of Evidence, and is opposed to certainty; so 
that what is only probable is not certain. Philosophers consider Prob- 
able Evidence, not as a degree, but as a species of Evidence which 
is opposed, not to certainty, but to another species of Evidence, called 
Demonstration . 

2. Dew^onstrative Evidence has no degrees ; but Probable Evidence, 
taken in the philosophical sense, has all degrees, from the very least 
to the greatest, which we call certainty. 

Example. That there is such a city as Edinburgh, I am as certain 
as of any proposition in my Euclid ; but the Evidence is not demon- 
strative, but of that kind which philosophers call probable. Yet, 
in common language, it would sound oddly in me to say to Mr. 
Gilbert, my printer, that, ''It is probable there is such a city as 
Edinburgh," because it would imply some degree of doubt or uncer- 
tainty. 

Corol. Taking Probable Evidence, therefore, in the philosophical 
sense, as it is opposed to demonstrative, it may have any degree of 
Evidence, from the least to the greatest. 

310. In most cases, we measure the degrees of Evidence 
by the effect they have upon a sound understanding, when 
comprehended clearly, and without prejudice. 

Plus. Every degree of Evidence perceived by the mind, pro- 
duces a proportional degree of assent, or belief The judgment may 
be in perfect suspense between two contradictory opinions, when 
there is no Evidence for either, or equal Evidence for both. The 
least preponderancy on one side inclines the judgment in propor- 
tion. Belief is mixed with doubt, more or less, until we come to 



CHAP. XI. Of Reason. 143 

the highest degree of Evidence, when all doubt vanishes, and the be- 
lief is firm and immovable. This degree of Evidence, the highest 
the human faculties can attain, we call certainty. 

IV. Division of Probable Evidence into different Kinds. 

311. Probable Evidence not only differs in kind from de- 
monstrative, but is itself of different kinds. 

Ohs. Without pretending to make the enumeration complete, we 
select, from Dr. Reid, the following kinds of Probable Evidence. 

1. The Evidence of human testimony, upon which the greater part 
of knowledge is built. 

II. The authority of those who are good judges of the point in 
question. 

III. That whereby we recognize the identity of things, and persons 
of our acquaintance. 

IV. That which we have of men's future actions and conduct, from 
the general principles of action in man, or from our knowledge of the 
individuals. 

V. That by which we collect men's characters and designs from 
their actions, speech, and other external signs. 

VI. That which mathematicians call the Probability of Chances. 

VII. That by which the known laws of Nature have been discover- 
ed, and the effects which have been produced by them, in former ages, 
or which may be expected in time to come. Now, to illustrate these 
different kinds of Probable Evidence. 

312. (i.) The Probable Evidence of human testimony is 
that upon which the greatest part of human knowledge is 
built. 

Illus. 1. The faith of history is built upon it, as well as the judg- 
ment of solemn tribunals with regard to men's acquired rights, and 
with regard to their guilt or innocence, when they are charged with 
crimes. A great part of the business of the judge, of the counsel 
at the bar, of the historian, of the critic, and of the antiquarian, is, 
to canvass and weigh this kind of Evidence ; and no man can act 
with common prudence in the ordinary occurrences of life, who has 
not some competent judgment of it. (See Jlrt. 64. Illus. 1, 2, 3. and 
Corol.) 

2. The belief which, in many cases, we give to testimony, is not 
solely grounded upon the veracity of the testifier. In a single testi- 
mony, we consider the motives which a witness might have to fal- 
sify. If there be no appearance of any such motive, much more, if 
there be motives on the other side, his testimony has weight inde- 
pendent of his moral character. If the testimony be circiunstantia! , 
we consider how far the circumstances agree together, and with things 
that are known. It is so very difficult to fabricate a story, which 
cannot be detected by a judicious examination of the circumstances, 
that circumstantial testimony always acquires evidence by being able 
to bear such a trial. There is an art in judicial proceedings, in de- 
tecting false evidence, well known to able judges and barristers, sc 



144 A Grammar^ of Logic. book ii. 

that we daily hear of witnesses leaving behind them at the bar a sus- 
picion of perjury. 

CoroL. Where there is an agreement of many witnesses, in a great 
variety of circumstances, without the possibility of a previous con- 
cert, the Evidence may be equal to that of Demonstration. 

313. (ii.) A second kind of Probable Evidence is, the 
AUTHORITY of those wtio are good judges of the point in 
question. 

liius. The supreme court of judicature of the British nation, (the 
Parliament,) is often determined by the opinion of lawyers, in a point 
of law ; of physicians, in a point of medicine ; and of other artists in 
what relates to their several professions. And, in the common affairs 
of life, we frequently rely upon the judgment of others in points of 
which we are not proper judges ourselves. 

314. (ill.) A third kind of Probable Evidence is, that by 
w^hich we recognize the identity of things, and persons of 
our acquaintance. 

Rlus. That two swords, two horses, two men, may be so perfectly 
alike, as not to be distinguishable by those to whom they are best 
known, cannot be shown to be impossible. Who that has not, from 
this identity, mistaken, in the street, an entire stranger for a friend ^ 
But we learn, either from nature, or from experience, that it never 
happens, or so very rarely, that a person, or thing, well known to us, 
is immediately recognized without any doubt, when we perceive the 
marks or signs by which we were wont to distinguish him or it from 
all other individuals of the kind. 

CoroL This Evidence we rely upon in the most important affairs 
of life 3 and, by this Evidence, the identity both of things and of 
persons, is determined in courts of judicature. (See Jlrt. 116. 
nius. 2.) 

315. (iv.) A fourth kind of Probable Evidence is, that 
which we have of men' s future actions and conduct, from the 
GENERAL PRINCIPLES of action in man, or from our knowledge 
of the individuals. (See Art. 87. IHus. 1 and 2.) 

Illus. 1. In spite of all the folly and vice that we behold among our 
species, there is a certain degree of prudence and probity upon which 
we rely, in every man that is not an inhabitant of a mad-house. The 
pupil may find, in his own experience, a thousand examples to con- 
firm this illustration. Men are not so much disposed to hurt as to do 
good to each other ; to lie as to speak truth ; else would the race soon 
perish : there is, therefore, notwithstanding the absurd dogmas of 
some fanatics, a greater share of good than of evil, and of truth than 
of falsehood, in the world. 

2. We expect that men will take some care of themselves, of their 
family, their friends, and reputation ; that they will not injure others 
without some temptation ; that they will have some gratitude for good 
offices, and some resentment of injuries. 

Carol. Such maxims, with regard to human conduct, are the foun- 
dation of all political reasoning, and of common prudence in the cop 
duct of life. 



CHAP. XI. Of Reason. 145 

316. (v.) Another kind of Probable Evidence, the coun- 
terpart of the last, is that by which we collect men^s char- 
acters and designs from their actions, speech, and other 
external signs. (See lllus. 1 and 2. Ar^. 87.) 

fllus. We see not the hearts of men, nor are the principles by 
which they are actuated labelled on their forehead ; but there are 
external signs of their principles and dispositions, which, though not 
certain, may sometimes be more trusted than their professions ; and it 
is from external signs that we must draw all the knowledge which we 
can attain of men's characters. 

317. (vi.) The next kind of Probable Evidence we men- 
tioned, is, that which mathematicians call the Probability 
of Chances. 

Illus. Chance is not commonly understood, either in philosophy or 
in vulgar language, to imply the exclusion of a cause, but our igno- 
rance of the cause. When the term is employed to denote bare possi- 
bility of an event, when nothing is known either to produce or hinder 
it ; in this meaning it can never be made the subject of calculation. 
In the former sense are understood all the chances about which my 
friend Mr. G. Davies, or any other mathematician, reasons, in the cal- 
culations of assurances, annuities, reversions, &c. 

Example. In throwing a die upon a table, we say there is an equal 
chance which of the six sides shall be turned up ; because neither the 
person who throws, nor the bystanders, can know the precise measure 
of force and direction necessary to turn up one side rather than an- 
other. There are here, therefore, six events, one of v^hich must hap- 
pen ; and as all are supposed to have equal probability, the probability 
of any one side being turned up, the ace, for instance, is as one to the 
remaining nwmbex jive. The probability of turning up two aces with 
two dice, is as one to thirty-jive ; because here there are thirty-six 
events, each of which has equal probability. 

Corol. 1. Upon such principles as these, the doctrine of chances has 
furnished a field of Demonstrative Reasoning of great extent, although 
the events about which this Reasoning is employed, be not necessary, 
but contingent ; and be not certain, but probable. 

2. This may seem to contradict a principle before advanced, that 
contingent truths are not capable of demonstration {Art '^Wf. Illus. 1.); 
but it does not : — For, in the Mathematical Reasonings about chance, 
the conclusion demonstrated is not, that such an event shall happen, 
but that the probability of its happening bears such a ratio to the prob- 
ability of its failing ; and this conclusion is necessary upon the sup- 
positions on which it is grounded. 

318. (vii.) The last kind of Probable Evidence we enu- 
merated, is, that by which the known laws of Nature have 
been discovered, and the effects which have been produced- 
by them in former ages, or which may be expected in time to 
come. (See Illus. Art. 45.) 

IUms. 1. The laws of Nature are the rules by which the Supreme 



146 A Grammar of Logic. book ti. 

Being governs the world. We deduce them only from facts which 
fall within our own observation, or are properly attested by those who 
have observed them. (See ^?t. 74. Illus.) 

2. The knowledge of some of these laws is necessary to all men, 
and ail men soon discover them. Who does not know that fire burns, 
that water drowns, that bodies gravitate towards the earth; that day 
and night, spring and autumn, regularly succeed each other ? As far 
back as our experience and information reach, we know that these 
have happened ; and, upon this ground, we are led, by the constitu 
tion of human nature, to expect that they will happen in time to 
come, in like circumstances. {Illus, Art. 75.) 

3. The knowledge which the philosopher attains of the laws of Na- 
ture, differs from that of the vulgar, not in the first principles on which 
it is grounded, but in its extent and accuracy. He collects with care 
the phenomena that lead to the same conclusion, and compares them 
with those that seem to contradict or to limit it. He observes the 
circumstances on which every phenomenon depends, and distinguishes 
them carefully from those that are accidentally conjoined with it. 
He puts natural bodies in various situations, and applies them to 
one another in various ways, on purpose to observe the effect ; and 
thus acquires from his senses a more extensive knowledge of the 
course of nature, in a short time, than could be collected by casual 
observation in many ages. 

4. The result of his laborious researches is then barely this : — as 
far as he has been able to observe, such things have always happened, 
in such circumstances, and such bodies have always been found to 
have such properties. These are matters of fact, attested by sense, 
and memory, and testimony, just as the few facts which the vulgar 
know are attested to them. 

5. And the conclusions which the philosopher draws from the facts 
which he has collected, are barely these : — that like events have 
happened in former times, in like circumstances, and will happen 
in time to come ; and these conclusions are built on the very ground 
on which the simple rustic concludes that the sun will rise to-morrow. 
(See Art. 76. Corol.) 

6. Facts reduced to general rules, and the consequences of those 
general rules, are all that we really know of the material world. 
And the Evidence that such general rules have no exceptions, as 
well as the Evidence that they will be the same in time to come as 
they have been in time past, can never be demonstrative. It is 
only that species of Evidence which philosophers call probable , 
General rules may have exceptions, or limitations, which no man 
ever had occasion to observe. The laws of Nature may be changed 
by Him who established them. But we are led, by our constitution, 
to rely upon their continuance with as little doubt as if it were 
demonstrable. 

JStote. The foregoing classification of Probable Evidence makes it 
incumbent on me that I enumerate also a few of the first principles, 
or intuitive truths, which other philosophers have laid down as the 
bases of Evidence ; and the more so as the sophistry of all knaves 
is founded on the perversion, or the setting aside, of such first 
principles. 

319. Father Buffier, a name entitled to the highest 



CHAP. XI. Of Reason. 14? 

encomium, finds two great sources from which he derives 
his first principles, viz. 

I. The consciousness we have of our own thoughts. 

II. Common sense ; — a phraseology which he employs in 
the common acceptation of language, as denoting the jTac^z/fj/ 
by which men form judgments on the ordinary objects of 
their experience, which are not proper subjects of conscious- 
ness. 

320. The following, though not, perhaps, a complete enu- 
meration, are the examples of this good man's principles of 
common sense.* 

I. There are other beings, and other men, in the world besides 
myself. 

II. There is in them something that is called truth, wisdom, pru- 
dence ; and this something is not merely arbitrary. (See Art. 58. 
Corol.) 

III. There is in me something that I call intelligence, or mind, and 
something which is not that intelligence, or mind, and which is named 
body; so that each possesses properties different from the other. (See 
Art. 52. and 54.) 

IV. What is generally said and taught by men, in all ages and 
countries of the world, is true. (Art. 60.) 

V. All men have not combined to deceive and impose upon me. 

VI. What is not intelligence, or mind, cannot produce all the effects 
of intelligence, or mind; neither can a fortuitous jumble of particles 
of matter form a work of such order, and so regular motion, as a 
watch. (Corol. Art. 73.) 

321. This original thinker mentions three qualities, or 
tests, by which first truths, or maxims of common sense, may 
be distinguished from all others. 

I. They are so clear that they cannot be proved by any thing 
clearer. 

II. They have been admitted in all countries, and at all times, with 
exceedingly few exceptions. 

III. They are so strongly imprinted in our minds that we regulate 
our conduct by them, in spite of all the speculative refinements of that 
philosophy which denies them. 

Obs. This illustrious genius lived in the beginning of the last cen- 
tury. Buffier considers the testimony of the senses as, at best, afford- 
ing but Probable Evidence, and by no means entitled to be ranked on 
the footing of certain and intuitive truth ; and he places the evidence 
of Memory on the same level as the evidence of sense. As far as I 
have been able to ascertain, he was the first who successfully taught 
the important science of first truths, in opposition to the career of 
skepticism, that then stalked over Europe. To M. Buffier's writingsi 
may be traced some of the finest thoughts, which sparkle like dia- 
monds, in the productions of Drs. Reid, Beattie, Campbell, and Paley 

*See his •' Traite des Premiers Verites el de la Source des nos Jud^^eas " 



148 A Grammar of Logic. book n. 

322. Dr. Beattie, in his '' Essay on the Immutability of 
Truth/' makes many observations on the nature of Evi- 
dence, the grounds of rational Belief, and the different kinds 
of Truth. In this work, the author proposes the following 
enumeration of the various kinds of evidence and sources of 
belief : — 

I. Mathematical Evidence. 

II. The evidence of External Sense. 

III. The evidence of Consciousness. 

IV. The evidence of Memory. 

V. That evidence which we have, when, from effects, we infer 
causes. 

VI. Probable Evidence . 

VII. The evidence of Testimony. 

Obs. 1. The first five he states to be certain and intuitive truths, or 
maxims of common sense ; the remaining two he Hkewise considers 
intuitive truths, or maxims of sense, but which Dr. Reid holds to be 
only probable, and not certain; and he divides the sixth class into two 
species. 

1st. The evidence by which we judge of future events by our past 
experience from similar events ; and, 

2dly. The evidence of analogy. 

Obs. 2. In Dr. Campbell's '^ Philosophy of Rhetoric" (which pro- 
ceeded from the same school, at the head of which is Father Buffier, 
and which gave birth to the writings of Reid and Beattie), are ably 
handled, with the greatest similarity of sentiments to Dr. Reid, the 
two kinds of evidence. Intuitive and Deductive. 

323. According to Dr. Campbell, intuitive evidence is 
that which is admitted immediately, on a bare attention to 
the ideas under review, and deductive, which is admitted 
mediately, by a comparison of these with other ideas. 

Illus. 1. Intuitive evidence the Doctor arranges under three 
heads. 

1. Mathematical axioms, which he states to be the result of pure 
Intellection. 

II. Consciousness; and, v 

III. Common sense ; under which last he comprehends both the 
evidence of Sense and Memory. 

2. Deductive evidence is founded upon the Intuitive, and Dr. Camp- 
bell considers it as of two kinds : — First, that which is founded upon 
the axioms of pure intellection ; and, Secondly, that which is founded 
upon the dictates of consciousness and common sense, which he calls 
Moral or Probable Evidence, and divides into — 

I. The knowledge we derive from experience. 

II. That from analogy. 

III. That from testimony ; and, 

IV. The calculation of chances ; which last he considers as a mixed 
kind of evidence, partly certain, and partly probable only. 

JVote. Truth is one, in which we have all a common property ; 



criAP. XII. Of Moral Perception. 149 

and the greatest pleasure I have in closing this Chapter, is, to refer 
my readers to the writings of those celebrated men whose names I 
have mentioned, and to the '^ Elements of the Philosophy of the 
Human Mind," by Mr. Stewart. These productions are so many 
altars of truth : the live coal on which is common sense — its vestal, 
Reason. 



CHAPTER XII. 

OF MORAL PERCEPTION. 

324. Moral Perception is the faculty which determines 
the choice of a rational being, as to what is good for him 
upon the whole, and what appears to he duty. 

Obs. 1. That there is such a faculty as Moral Perception in man, I 
take for granted, on two grounds ; first, because he is endowed with 
Consciousness, Memory, and Judgment ; Secondly, because this 
faculty can have no existence but in a being endowed with Reason 
and all the other faculties, upon which, as principles or auxiliaries, it 
displays its exertions, in the various acts of Intention, of Will, and of 
Judgment. 

2. This faculty spreads before our view a wide and variegated field 
of discursive inquiry and illustration, and we shall therefore arrange it 
under several sections. 

I. The Rational Principles of Action in Man. 

325. There can be no exercise of reason without judg- 
ment ; nor, on the other hand, any judgment of things ab- 
stract and general, without some degree of reason. 

Corol. If, therefore, there be in the human constitution any prin- 
ciples of action, which, in their nature, necessarily imply such judg- 
ment, they are the principles which we may call rational, to distin- 
guish them from animal principles, which imply desire and will, but 
not judgment. 

326. Every deliberate action must be done either as the 
means, or as an end ; as the means to some end to which it 
is subservient, or as an end for its oion sake, and without re- 
gard to any thing beyond itself; and that it is a part of the 
office of reason to determine what are the proper means to 
any end which we desire, no man ever denied. The philos- 
ophers, who assign to Taste, or Feeling, the office which 
we assign to Reason, cease to consider Reason a principle 
of action. 

Ohs • We shall, therefore, endeavor to show, that, among tlie 

12 



150 A Grammar of Logic. book il. 

various ends of human actions, there are some, of which, without 
Reason, we could not even form a conception ; and that, as soon as 
they are perceived, a regard to them is, by our constitution, not only 
a principle of action, but a lending and governing principle, to which 
all our animal principles are subservient, and to which they ought to 
be subject- 

Corol. These we call rational principles, because they can only 
exist in beings endowed with Reason ; and because, to act from those 
principles, is what has always been meant by acting according to 
Reason. 

327. The ends of human actions which we have here in 
view, are two. 

First. What is good for us upon the whole. 
Secondly. And what appears to be duty. 

II. Of Regard to our Good on the Whole. 

328. It will not be denied, that as soon as we come to 
years of understanding, we are led, by our rational powers, to 
form the conception of what is good for us upon the whole. 

Ohs. The general notion of ^oo^, which enters the mind at an early 
age, is one of the most general and abstract notions we form. 

329. Whatever makes a man more happy, or more per- 
fect, is GOOD, and is an object of desire as soon as he is ca- 
pable of forming the conception of it. The contrary is ill, 
and is an object of aversion. In other words, the neglect of 
good is, in moral actions, matter of indignation or blame. 

Corol. Hence Moral Laws may be considered under different as- 
pects, and distinguished by different titles. 

I. Considered in respect to their source, they may be distinguished 
as original, or natural, or adventitious, or conventional. 

II. Considered in respect to their subjects, they may be distin- 
guished by denominations taken from those subjects ; as, laws of re- 
ligion, or of society, — as, laws of peace, or of tear ;—3iS, laws political, 
civil, or criminal. 

III. Considered in respect to the persons to whom they are appli- 
cable, they are laws of nations, or the laios of particular states. 

330. Moral philosophy is, thence, the knowledge of Mor- 
al laws, respecting their sources and their applications. 

Ohs. The obligation of every law, whether original or adventitious, 
general or partial, may be resolved into an obligation of the law of na- 
ture. And the fi.r.st, or fundamental, law of nature to mankind, is, an 
expression of the greatest good competent to man's nature. All sub- 
sequent laws are branches or applications of this. 

331 . That which, taken with all its discoverable connec- 
tions and consequences, brings more good than ill, we call 

GOOD UPON the WHOLE. 



cilAP. XII. Of Moral Perception. 151 

Illus. There is no reason to believe that brute animals have any 
conception of this. Nor do we ourselves have any conception of 
what is good for us on the whole, till reason be so far advanced, 
that we can seriously reflect upon the past, and take a prospect of 
the future part of our existence. 

Corol. It appears, therefore, that the very conception of what is 
good or ill for us upon the whole, is the ofi^spring of reason, and can 
only be in beings endowed with reason. And if this conception give 
rise to any principle of action in man, which he had not before, that 
principle may very properly be called a rational principle of action. 
(See the first Book of Cicero's Offices.) 

332. As soon as we have the conception of what is good 
or ill for us upon the whole, we are led, by our constitution, 
to seek the good and avoid the ill ; and this becomes not 
cnly a principle of action, but a leading or governing 
principle, to which all our animal principles ought to be 
subordinate. 

IlJus. 1. In intelligent beings, the desire of what is good, and the 
aversion of what is i/l, is necessarily connected with the intelligent 
nature ; and it is a contradiction to suppose such a being to have the 
notion of good without the desire of it, or the notion of Ul without an 
aversion to it. 

2. To prefer a greater good, though distant, to a less good that 
is present — to choose a present evil, in order to avoid a greater evil, 
or to obtain a greater good, — is, in the judgment of all men, wise and 
reasonable conduct; and when a man acts the contrary part, all men 
will acknowledge that he acts foolishly and unreasonably. 

3. No man was ever drawn one way by his animal principles, lead- 
ing him to vicious indulgence, without at the same time experiencing 
the reflection, that a regard to what is good on the whole, pulled, 
though feebly, in the contrary direction. 

4. That in every conflict of this kind, the rational principle 
ought to prevail, and the animal to be subordinate, is too evident to 
need proof. 

Corol. Thus, it appears, that to pursue what is good upon the 
whole, and to avoid what is ill upon the whole, is a rational principle 
of action, grounded upon our constitution as reasonable creatures. 

333. It appears, that it is not without just cause, that this 
principle of action has, in all ages, been called Reason, in 
opposition to our animal principles, which, though alike the 
gift of the Author of our existence, are, in common language, 
called by the general name oi Passions.^ 

nius. The first not only operates in a calm and cool manner, like 
reason, but implies real judgment in all its operations. The second^ 
to wit, the passions, are blind desires of some particular object, with- 
out any judgment or consideration whether it be good or ill for us 
upon the whole. 

* See Cogan's Philosophical and Ethical Treatises on the Passioojb 



152 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

334. It appears, also, that the fundamental maxim of pru- 
dence, and of all good morals — That the passions ought, in 
all cases, to be under the dominion of reason — is not only 
self-evident, when rightly understood, but is expressed ac- 
cording to the common use and propriety of language. 

Obs. To judge of what is true or false in speculative points, is 
the office of sjjeculative reason ; and to judge of what is good or 
ill for us upon the whole, is the office of practical reuson. Of true 
and false there are no degrees ; but of good and ill there are many 
degrees, and many kinds ; and we are very apt to form erroneous 
opinions concerning them ; misled by our passions, by the authority 
of others {.^rt. 240. liius.), and by other causes. (See the Influence 
of Arbitrary Associations, as it affects our Moral Judgments, p. 101 
and 102.) 

335. Wise men, in all ages, have reckoned it a chief 
point of w^isdom to make a right estimate of the good and 
evils of life. They have labored to discover the errors of 
the multitude on this important point, and to v\^arn others 
against those errors. 

Jllus. 1. The same station or condition of life, which makes one 
man happy, makes another miserable, and to a third it is perfectly 
indifferent. We see some men miserable through life, from vain 
fears, and anxious desires, grounded solely upon wrong opinions. 
We see others wear themselves out with toilsome days and sleepless 
nights, in pursuit of some object which they never attain ; or which, 
when attained, gives little satisfaction, perhaps real disgust. 

2. The evils of life have very different effects upon different men; 
what sinks one into despair and absolute misery, rouses the virtue 
and magnanimity of another, who bears it as the lot of humanity, 
and as the discipline of a wise and merciful Father in heaven. He 
rises superior to adversity, and is made wiser and better by it, and 
consequently happier. 

Corol. Tt is; therefore, of the last importance, in the conduct of 
life, to have just notions with respect to good and evil ; and surely 
it is the province of reason to correct wrong opinions, and to lead us 
into those that are just and true. 

336. He who feels the bad effects of follov^ing his pas- 
sions and appetites, and imp.iles them to himself, would be 
stung with remorse for his folly, though he had no account 
to make to a superior Being. His reason convinces him 
that he has sinned against himself: in his self-condemna- 
tion, he feels that he has brought upon his own head the 
punishment which his folly deserved. 

CoroL From this, we may see that this rational principle of a re- 
gard to our own good upon the whole, gives us the conception of 
a rtfrJit and a wrong in human conduct, at least of a laise and a, fool- 
ish. It produces a kind of self-approbation, when the passions and 



CHAP. XII. Of Moral Perception. 153 

appetites are kept in their due subjection to this rational principle of 
a regard to our own good upon the whole, and a kind of remorse and 
compunction when it yields to them. 

Ohs. In these respects, this principle is so similar to the moral prin- 
ciple or conscience, and so interwoven with it, that, to make the dis- 
tinction apparent, we shall make conscience the subject of the next 
section. 

III. Analysis of Conscience, or the Moral Principle. 

337. Conscience, or the faculty of distingaishing right 
conduct from wrono^, like all our other faculties, comes to ma- 
turity by degrees, or is tutored by the experience we have of 
our own conduct, and by the examples of good and ill which 
are furnished us by others. 

Illus. The seeds of moral discernment are, if I may use a figure, 
planted in oui mind by Him that made us. They grow up in their 
proper season ; they are at first tender and delicate, and easily w^arped; 
hence their progress depends very much upon their being duly culti- 
vated and properly exercised. All the arguments applied to prove the 
cultivation of our other faculties, attention, abstraction, memory, asso- 
ciation, judgment, and reasoning, bear with united force in proof of 
the fact that raoral discernment, or conscience, is susceptible of a high 
degree of improvement. 

Corol. Since, then, the natural power of discerning between right 
and wrong needs the aid of instruction, education, exercise, and habit, 
as well as our other natural powers, and, by these means of improve- 
ment, may be informed of its duty, of the good its subject ought to 
pursue, and the evils that he ought to shun, that man must indeed be a 
stranger to his own heart, and to the state of human nature, who does 
not see that he has need of all the aid which his situation affords him, 
in order to know how he ought to act in any given case, in which acci- 
dent or circumstances may place him. 

338. Conscience is peculiar to man, and is one of those 
prerogatives by which he is raised above brute animals, in 
which not a vestige of Moral Perception can be traced. 

Corol. 1. Man alone, of the animals that inhabit this earth, is a 
moral agent. The dog that runs away with a piece of meat is not so ; 
therefore this action is no crime in the dog, though, by an abuse of 
language, we say of that quadruped, that •' He is a great thief." Brute 
animals are neither immoral nor virtuous : and when we say of ahorse, 
that '' He is vicious," our meaning is that he has such qualities, or 
has acquired, by ill treatment or otherwise, such habits as lead to such 
actions. 

2. These things, and others, which the ingenuity of the reader can 
easily supply, show that there is just reason why we should consider 
the brute creation destitute of the noblest faculties with which God 
hath endowed man, and particularly of that ficultj^ which makes us 
moral and accountable beings.^ 

12* 



154 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

339 'Conscience is evidently intended by nature to be the 
immediate guide and director of our conduct, after we ar- 
rive at the years of understanding. 

Illus. 1. The bones, muscles, arteries, blood, and variously-compli' 
cated parts of our frame, show intuitively the end for which they 
were made and put together with such exquisite skill and nicety of 
adaptation and action. 

2. That we may discern those qualities of bodies which may be 
useful or hurtful to us, we are endowed with five senses, the media of 
all sensation ; that we may retain the knowledge which we have ac- 
quired, we have the faculty of memory given us ; that we may distin- 
guish what is true from what is false, we have the faculties of ji^t/^- 
tnent and reasoning, as original powers of the mind. 

3. The appetites and passions of our nature all point out their end ; 
else what are the natural appetites of hunger and thirst, the natural 
affections of parents to their offspring, and of relations to each other, 
the natural docility and credulity of children, the affections of pity 
and sympathy with the distressed, the attachment we feel to neigh- 
bors, to acquaintance, and the esteem and love we feel towards indi- 
viduals .^ What is our obedience to the laws and the constitution of 
Britain ? What are these, I ask, but parts of our constitution, which 
plainly point out their end .? And he must be intellectually blind, or a 
wretched knave, who will not allow, who does not perceive, that the 
intention for which both the intellectual and the active powers were 
given him, is written in legible and in golden characters upon the face 
of each of them. 

340. Nor is this the case with any of them more evidently 
than with Conscience, the intention of which is manifestly 
implied in its office — to show us what is good, what bad, and 
what indifferent, in human conduct. 

Illus. 1, '' He hath showed thee, O man ! what is good," saith the 
Prophet Micah. Conscience judges of every action before it is done ; 
for we can rarely act so precipitately, but we have the consciousness 
that what we are about to do is right, or wrong, or indifferent. Like 
the bodily eye, it naturally looks forward, though its attention may 
occasionally be turned back to the past. 

2. Conscience, if I may be so bold as to make the assertion, plunges 
into the future, when it prescribes measures to every appetite, affec- 
tion, and passion, and says of every other principle of action, ^^ Hith- 
erto thou shalt go, but no farther." Whoever yet transgressed its dic- 
tates with innocence, or even with impunity ? At any rate, I am not 
that man ; and, with my peccability, I have no ambition to be stripped 
of this sacred monitor. It is an honest, an amiable counsel, whose 
opinions are without expense and without delay. 

3. Probably some of our other principles of action have more 
strength, but none of them can boast its authority. Set any other 
principle in opposition to it we please, its sentence makes us guilty to 
ourselves, and guilty in the eyes of our Maker. 

Cofol. ] . Jt is evident, therefore, th-at this principle has, from it* 



iJiiAP. XII. Of Moral Percejjtion. 155 

nature, an authority to direct and determine, with regard to our 
conduct — to judge, to acquit, or to condemn, and even to punish — an 
authority that belongs to no otlier principle of the human mind. 
Other principles may urge, this only authorizes. Other principles 
ought to be controlled by this; this may be, but never ought to 
be, controlled by any other, and never can be with innocence to 
our bosoms. 

2. The authority of conscience over the other principles of tht 
mind is self-evident ; for it implies no more than this — -That in all 
cases a man ought to do his duty. He only, who does in all cases 
what he ought to do, is the perfect man. 

Obs. To this all-powerful principle, then, rather than to any 
other, did Nelson appeal at the battle of Trafalgar, when that noble 
sentiment ran through his fleet — 

'' ENGLAND EXPECTS THAT EVERY MAN THIS DAY WILL DO HIS DUTY." 

341. The Moral Faculty, or Conscience, is both an ac- 
tive and an intellectual power of the mind. It is an active 
poioer, as every tridy virtuous action must be more or less 
influenced by it ; and it is an intellectual power, because 
by it solely we have the original conceptions, or ideas of 
right and wrong in human conduct. 

lllus. 1. Of its being an active poioer. Other principles may con- 
cur with it, and lead the same way ; but no action can be called mor- 
ally good, in which regard to what is right has not some influence 

Example 1. There is no virtue^ but there is justice^ in paying just 
debts. When the moral principle wages war and overcomes the ani- 
mal principles, there is certainly some activity shown. In some cases, 
a regard to what is right may be the sole motive, without the concur- 
rence or opposition of any other principle of action ; as when a judge, 
or an arbiter, determines a plea betv\^een two indifferent persons, sole- 
ly from a regard to justice. 

CoTol. 1. Thus we see, that conscience, as an active principle, 
sometimes concurs with other principles, sometimes opposes them, and 
is sometimes the sole principle of action. 

nius. 2. Of its being an intellectual power. By conscience, solely as 
an intellectual yower, we have the original conceptions, or ideas, of 
right and wrong in human conduct ; and of right and wrong there 
are not only many different degrees, but many different species. Jus- 
tice and injustice, benevolence and malice, prudence and folly, magna- 
nimity and meanness, decency and indecency, are various moral 
forms, all comprehended under the general notion of right and wrong 
in conduct, — all of them objects of moral approbation or disapproba- 
tion, in a greater or less degree. 

Again, the conception of these, as moral qualities, we have by our 
moral faculty ; and by the same faculty, when we compare them to- 
gether, we perceive various relations among them. 

Example 2. Thus we perceive, i\i<ii justice is entitled to a small de- 
gree of praise, but injustice to a high degree of blame ; and the same 
may be said of gratitude and its contrary. When justice and grati- 
tude interfere, gratitude must give place to justice, and unmerited be 
nelicence to both. 



156 A Grammar of Logic . book ii. 

Corol. 2. As this faculty; therefore, furnishes the human mind 
with many of its original conceptions; or ideas, as well as with the 
first principles of many important branches of haiman knowledge, it 
may justly be accounted an intellectual as well as an active pov)er of 
the mind. 

IV. Analysis of Duty, Rectitude, and Moral Obligation. 

342. The subject of law must have the conception of a 
general rule of conduct, and a sufficient inducement to 
obey the law, even when his strongest animal desires draw 
him the contrary way. 

Illus. Without some degree of reason he cannot have this concep- 
tion. Man is endowed with some degree of reason. We shall thence 
pronounce him the subject of law, having the conception of a general 
rule of conduct. The subject of law must likewise have a sufficient 
inducement to obey the law, even when his strongest animal desires 
draw him the contrary way. The possession of good is a sufficient 
inducement to obey the law. Man, of all the animals of creation, de- 
sires the possession of good. We shall, therefore, consider man as 
having a sufficient inducement to obey the law, even when his strong- 
est animal desires draw him the contrary way. 

343. This inducement may be a sense of interest, or a 
sense of duty, or both concurring. 

Obs. These are the only two principles, which, in Dr. Reid's opin- 
ion, can reasonably induce a man to regulate all his actions according 
to a general rule or law. 

Corol. They may, therefore, be justly called the rational principles 
of action, since they can have no place but in a being endowed with 
reason, and since it is by them only that man is capable either of po- 
litical or of moral government. 

344. Our notion, or conception of duty, is too simple to 
admit a logical definition ; and when we say, that it is 
what we ought to do — ivhat is fair and honest — what is 
approvable — what every man prof esses to be the rule of his 
conduct — what all men praise — and what is in itself lauda^ 
ble, though no man should praise it, — we define it only by 
synonymous words, or phrases, or by its properties and 
necessary concomitants. 

345. The notion of duty cannot be resolved into that of 
interest, or what is most for our happiness. 

lilus. 1. Every man may be satisfied of this, who attends to his 
own conceptions, and the language of mankind shows it; — for, 
^^hen I say, ^' This is my interest," I mean one thing ; and when I 
say, '^ This is my duty," I mean another thing. And though the 
same course of action, when rightly understood, may be both my 
duty and my interest, the conceptions I have of each are very dif- 
ferent. Both are reasonable motives to a.ction, but quite distinct in 
their nature 



CHAP XII. Of Moral Perception. 157 

2. In every man of real worth, there is a principle of honor, a re- 
gard to what is honorable, or dishonorable, very distinct from a re- 
gard to his interest. It is folly in any man to disregard his interest, 
but to do what is dishonorable is baseness. The first may move our 
pity, or, in some cases, our contempt ; but the last provokes our indig- 
nation . 

Coral. 1. As these two principles are different in their nature, and 
not resolvable into one, so the principle of honor is evidently superior 
in dignity to that of interest. 

2. No man would allow liini to be a man of honor, who should plead 
his interest to justify what he acknowledged to be dishonorable ; but 
to sacrifice interest to honor never costs a blush. 

346. This principle is not to be resolved into a regard to 
our reputation among men, else the man of honor would 
not deserve to be trusted in the dark. He would have no 
aversion to lie, to cheat, to play the coward, when he had 
no dread of being discovered. 

Coro' . Every man of honor, therefore, feels an abhorrence of certain 
actions, because tliey are in themselves base, and feels an obligation 
to certain other actions, because they are in themselves what honor 
requires, and this independently of any consideration of interest or 
reputation. 

347. This is an immediate moral obligation; and this 
principle of honor, which is acknowledged by all men who 
pretend to character, is only another name for what we call 
a regard to duty, to rectitude, to propriety of conduct. It 
is a moral obligation, which obliges a man to do certain 
things because they are right, and not to do other things 
because they are wrong. 

Corol. There is, therefore, a principle in man, call it by what name 
you please, which, when he acts according to it, gives him a conscious- 
ness of worth, and when he acts contrary to it, a sense of demerit. 
Men of rank call it honor ; the vulgar hind calls it honesty, probity ^ 
virtue, conscience ; philosophers have given it the name of the moral 
sense, the moral faculty , rectitude. 

348. The universality of this principle — the words that 
express it — the names of the virtues which it commands, 
and of the vices which it forbids — the ought and ought not, 
which express its dictates- — make it evidently an essential 
part of language. 

Illus 1 . The natural affections — of respect to worthy people — of re- 
sentment of injuries — of gratitude for favors — of indignation against 
the worthless — are parts of the human constitution which suppose a 
right and a wrong in conduct. 

2. Many transactions that are found in the rudest societies, go upon 
the same supposition. In all testimony — in all promises — in all con* 
tracts — there is necessarily impMed a moral obligation on one party, 
and a trust in the other, grounded upon this obligation. 



158 A Grammar of Logic. book ii 

349. The leading principle of all our active powers is 
Reason, and it comprehends both a regard to what is right 
and honorable, and a regard to our happiness upon the whole. 
All the principles of action — whether they be notions of du- 
ty, rectitude, or moral obligation— when rightly understood, 
lead to the same course of life ; they are fountains whose 
streams unite and run in the same channel. 

Obs. When we say a man ought to do such a thing, the ought, 
which expresses the moral obligation, has a respect, on the one hand, 
to the person who ought, and, on the other, to the action which he 
ought to do. Those two correlates are essential to every moral obli- 
gation ; take away either, and the obligation ceases to exist. 

350. The circumstances, both in the action and in the 
agent, necessary to constitute a moral obligation, are these : — 

I. With regard to the action, it must be a voluntary 
action, or praestation of the person obliged, and not of 
another. 

II. The opinion of the agent in doing the action gives it 
its moral obligation. 

Obs. With respect to the person obliged, to things only which come 
within the sphere of his natural power can he be under a moral obli- 
gation. As respects the agent, if he does a materially good action, 
without any belief of its being good, but from some other principle, it 
is no good action in him. And if he does it with the belief of its 
being ill., it is ill in him. 

Corol. These qualifications of the action, and of the agent, in moral 
obligation, are superevident ; and the agreement of all men in them, 
shows that all men have the same notion, and a distinct notion, of 
moral obligation. 

V. Analysis of the Sense of Duty. 

351. We are next to consider how we learn to judge 
and determine that this is right, and that is wrong. 

Obs. The abstract notion of moral good and ill would be of no use 
to direct our life, if we had not the power of applying it to particu- 
lar actions, and determining what is morally good, and what is mor- 
ally ill. 

352. By the external senses, we have not only the original 
conceptions of the various qualities of bodies, but the origin- 
al judgments that this body has such a quality, that such 
another : so by our moral faculty, we have both the original 
conceptions of right and wrong, of merit and demerit, in 
ourselves and others ; and also the original judgments that 
this conduct is right, that is wrong; that this character has 
worth, that demerit. 



CHAP. XII. Of Moral Perception. 159 

lUus. \. The testimony of our moral faculty, like that of the ex- 
ternal senses, is the testimony of nature, and we have the same rea- 
son to rely upon it. 

2. The truths immediately testified by the external senses, are the 
first principles from which we reason, with regard to the material 
world, and from which all our knowledge of it is deduced. 

3. The truths immediately testified by our moral faculty, are the 
first principles of all moral reasonings from which all our knowledge 
of our duty must be deduced. 

353. Moral reasoning is all reasoning that is brought to 
prove that such conduct is right and deserving of moral ap- 
probation, or that it is wrong, or that it is indifferent, and, in 
itself, neither morally good nor ill. 

CoroL 1. All that we can properly call moral judgments, are redu- 
cible to one or other of these, because all human actions, considered 
in a moral point of view, are either good, or bad, or indifferent. 

2. Let it be understood, therefore, that in the reasoning which we 
call moral, the conchision always is — That something in the conduct 
of moral agents is good or bad, in a greater or a less degree, or in- 
different. 

354. All moral reasonings rest upon one or more first 
principles of morals, whose truth is immediately perceiv- 
ed, without reasoning, by all men come to years of under- 
standing. 

Rlus. This is common to every branch of human knowledge that 
deserves the name of science ; and these first principles are the dic- 
tates of our natural faculties. 

Example 1. In astronomy and in optics, the first principles are 
phenomena attested by the human eye ; and with him who disbelieves 
the testimony of that little organ, the whole of those two noble fabrics 
of science falls to pieces like the visions of the night. 

2. The principles of music all depend upon the testimony of the 
ear; those of natural philosophy, upon the facts attested by the 
senses ; those of mathematics, upon the necessary relations of quan- 
tities considered abstractedly. (Art. 44. lllus.) The science of politics 
borrows its principles from what we know by experience of the char- 
acter and conduct of man. The first principles of morals are the 
immediate dictates of the moral faculty. 

3. He that will judge of the color of an object, must consult his 
eyes in a good light, when there is no medium, or contiguous object, 
that may give it a false tinge. In like manner, he that will j-udge of 
the first principles of morals, must consult his conscience, or moral 
faculty ', when he is calm and dispassionate, unbiased by interest, 
affection, or fashion. 

CoroL The sum of the reasonings that we have made, or that we 
might make, on this analysis of the sense of duty, is — that, by an ori- 
ginal power of the mind, which we call conscience, or the moral faculty^ 
we have the conception of right and wrong in human conduct, of 
mierit and demerit, of duty and moral obligation, and our other moral 
conceptions ; and that, by the same faculty, we perceive some things 



160 A Grammar of Logic. book ii. 

in hanian conduct to be right, and others to be wrong; that the first 
principles of morals are the dictates of this faculty; and that we have 
the same reason to rely upon those dictates, as upon the determina- 
tions of our senses, or of our other natural faculties. 



VI. Of Moral Approbation and Disapprobation. 

355. The judgments we form in speculative matters are 
dry and un affecting ; — our moral judgments, from their na- 
ture, are necessarily accompanied with affections and 
FEELINGS, which wc are now to consider. 

lUus. We approve of good actions and disapprove of bad ones ; and 
this approbation and disapprobation, when we analyze it, appears to in- 
clude not only a moral judgment of the action, but some affection, favor- 
able or unfavorable, towards the agent, and some feeling in ourselves. 

356. Moral worth, even in a stranger, with whom we 
have not the least connection, never fails to produce some 
degree of esteem, mixed with good-will. The esteem which 
we have for a man on account of his moral worth, is differ- 
ent from that which is grounded upon his intellectual ac- 
complishments, his birth, fortune, and connection with us. 

lUus. Moral worth, v»^hen it is not set off by eminent abilities and ex- 
ternal advantages, is like a diamond in the mine, which is rough and 
unpolished, and perhaps crusted over with some other baser material 
that takes away its lustre. But, when it is attended with these 
advantages, it is like a diamond cut and polished, and set round with 
pearls, in a massy crown. Its lustre then attracts every eye ; and yet 
these things, which add so much to its appearance, add but little to 
its real value. 

Corol. There is no judgment of the heart more clear, or more ir- 
resistible than this — That esteem and regard are really due to good 
conduct, and the contrary to base and unworthy conduct. Nor can 
we conceive a greater depravity in the heart of man, than it would be 
to see and acknowledge worth without feeling any respect to it ; or to 
see and acknowledge the highest worthlessness without any degree of 
dislike and indignation. 

357. The object of moral approbation is, then, either some 
disposition of the mind, or some external action. 

Tllus. Probity is the most approved disposition ; and the external 
expressions of probity the most approved actions. These constitute 
the whole, or the most essential part of virtue. Other subjects may 
be admired or contemned, but these alone are the subjects of moral 
approbation, of esteem and love. 

^158. Partiality, which makes us blind to the faults of 
our friends, and the merits of those to whom, from prejudice 
or passion, we are ill affected, is the foundation of our wrong 



CHAP. XII. Of Moral Perception, 161 

judgment with regard to the character of others, and of 
self-deceit with regard to our own. 

359. Moral approbation or disapprobation is accompa- 
nied with agreeable or uneasy feelings, in the breast of the 
spectator or judge. 

Illus. The benevolent affections give pleasure, the malevolent de- 
sire-s give pain, in one degree or another. And when we contemplate 
a noble character, though but in ancient story, or even in a novel, a 
Gomedy, or a tragedy, like a beautiful object, it gives a lively and 
pleasant emotion to the spirits ; it warms the heart, and invigorates 
the frame ; like the beams of a nieridian sun, it enlivens the face of 
nature, and diffuses heat, light, and joy, all around. 

Example. We feel a sympathy with the noble Caractacus, and are 
alflicted in his distress ; and Alfred the Great compels us to rejoice in 
his prosperity ; we even catch some sparks of that celestial fire that 
animated the conduct of the latter ; and it is impossible to accompany 
the former to Rome, without feeling the glow of his virtue and mag- 
nanimity. 

Corol. This sympathy is the necessary effect of our judgment of the 
conduct of those men, and of our approbation and esteem due to that 
conduct ; for real sympathy is always the effect of some benevolent 
affection, such as esteem, love, pity, or humanity. 

360. Sympathy gathers strength from the social tie, and 
bids us claim some property in the worth of a father, or a 
mother, a brother, or a sister, a relation, or an acquaintance, 
and chiefly so in that friend whom we value above all her 
sex ; but the highest pleasure of our soul is, when we are 
conscious of good conduct in ourselves. 

Obs. On the other hand, the view of a vicious character, especially 
if that character be connected with us, like that of an ugly and de- 
formed object, is disagreeable, and our syinpathtj is very painful in- 
deed ; for we blush for those faults by which we feel ourselves dis- 
honored. 

Corol. If bad conduct, in those in whom we are interested, be un- 
easy and painful, it is much more so when we are conscious of it in 
ourselves. This uneasy feeling has a name in all languages ; we call 
it remorse. In repentance, contrition, and remorse^ self-reproach, and 
even indignation, are largely intermixed with the affection of sorrow. 

Note. We shall here close our division of '- The Intellectual Pow- 
ers," recommending to the more advanced reader the study of Reid and 
Stewart's writings on the same subject. What we have said is suffi- 
cient in an elementary treatise 

13 



BOOK 111. 

SUBJECTS OF COLLATERAL INaUIRY, WITH 
THE INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 



CHAPTER I. 

OF THE PRIMARY AND SECONDARY QUALITIES 
OF BODIES. 

361. We have observed in Chapter II. of Book 11. that 
sensation is generally conjoined with perception ; but these 
terms denote two separate and distinct acts of the mind, and 
we have no appropriate name to designate the conjunction 
of sensation with perception. Both are generally confounded 
together under one term, which comes to be more strictly 
appropriated either to the sensation or the perception, accord- 
ing as the one or the other more strongly occupies the atten- 
tion of the mind. 

Illus. 1. If it be asked what I mean by the smell of a rose, it is 
evident that, in the general acceptation of the phrase, this denotes a 
sensation of the mind, as appears from the e^iiheX^ fragrant, agreeable, 
&c., which are applicable to it, and which have meaning when refer- 
red to a sentient being. {Art. 105. Illus. ] , 2, and 3.) Along, howev- 
er, with this sensation of an agreeable odor, there is conjoined a per- 
ception, by which we form a certain notion of that quality in the rose, 
which is the cause of its odor ; but this perception is totally distinct 
from the sensation {Jirt 42 and 108.) ; for the perception cannot be 
said to be agreeable or otherwise, and it has an external object, the ex- 
istence of which depends not upon the act of the mind, as doth the 
sensation. (See Art. 106. and Illus. Art. 110 ) Yet we have no name 
by which to distinguish the object of this perception, unless it be that 
which more properly belongs to the accompanying sensation, to wit, 
the Sftiel of the rose ; a defect of language which is, no doubt, the 
source of much ambiguity. 

2. Again, if it be asked, What is the effect produced by applying 
the hand upon any solid and compact substance ? it will be answer 



CHAP. I. Of the Secondary Qualities of Bodies. 163 

e-i, that We feci the body to be hard. Ana^ /n like manner, when 
the parts of a body are easily displaced, or its figure changed by 
applying the hand to it, we call it soft; we feel it soft. These are 
the notions which all mankind have of hardness and softness. They 
are neither sensations, nor like any sensation ; they were real quali- 
ties before they were perceived by touch, and continue to be so 
when they are not perceived; for if any man will affirm, that dia- 
monds were not hard till they were handled, who v/ould reason 
with him ? 

3. The sensation of hardness may be easily had, by pressing one'f 
hand against the table, and attending to the feeling that ensues, set 
ting aside, as much as possible, all thought of the table and its quali- 
ties, or of any external thing. But it is one thing to have the sen- 
sation, and another to attend to it, and make it a distinct object of 
reflection. The first is easy ; the last, in most cases, extremely 
ditficult. 

4. The sensation of touch, and the hardness of bodies, have not 
the least similitude ; yet the hardness of bodies is a thing that we 
conceive as distinctly, and believe as firmly, as any thing in nature ; 
and no rules of reasoning are required to convince me of the con- 
sciousness I have of this sensation when I press my hand against 
the table. I see nothing left, but to conclude, that, by an original 
principle in my constitution, a certain sensation of touch both sug- 
gests to the mind the conception of hardness, and creates the belief 
of it : or, in other words, that this sensation is the natural sign of 
hardness. 

362. This sensation may be increased in strength at 
pleasure, merely by increasing the pressure of the hand ; 
and it may be increased to such a degree as to be very dis- 
agreeable. It then arrests the attention forcibly enough, 
and we give it the name of Pain, which is, however, no ap- 
propriate term, but the common appellation of all sensations 
that are disagreeable. If I hit my toe against a stone with 
violence, the sensation I experience is the same in kind, but 
different in degree, with what I feel when I gently press the 
table with my hand. 

363. We have now shown, that language affords, in gen- 
eral, but a single term whereby to distinguish both the sen- 
sation and its accompanying perception ; and that this term 
is chiefly appropriated either to the sensation or the percep- 
tion, according as the attention is most engrossed by the one 
or the other. Upon this circumstance appears to be founded 
a distinction of the qualities of body into two kinds, called 
primary and secondary, 

Illus. The reality of the distinction appears to be placed in this ; 
that the 'primary qualities are those of which we have a distinct per- 
ception, and but a slight sensation; while, of the secondary, onr per 
ception is but obscure, and we have a strong sensation, which chiefi)' 



164 A Grammar of Logic, book hi 

arrests our attention. Hence, the names of the primary qualities of 
body more usually refer to the perception by which they are made 
known to us ; while those of the secondary qualities have more prop- 
erly a reference to the accompanying sensation. 

364. The three senses of taste, smell, and hearing, appear 
to give us information of the secondary qualities of body 
alone ; the other two senses, of sight and touch, inform us 
both of primary and secondary qualities. Heat and cold are 
secondary qualities, discernible by touch ; and color is a sec- 
ondary quality, discernible by sight. 

rUus. The disposition of bodies to reflect a particular kind of light, 
or the fitness of certain particles of external bodies to reflect some 
only of the rays of light, occasions the sensation of color; and in this 
acceptation, it really exists in the sentient being, although* early 
prejudice induces us to refer it to the external body alone ; and the 
term is usually applied only to the external cause of the sensation, 
and not to tlie sensation itself, which is not the case with the other 
secondary qualities. All the primary qualities of body may be dis- 
covered by the sense of touch alone ; and it is this sense, as diffused 
over our whole corporeal frame, which imparts the most accurate 
notions concerning those qualities. For the notions of extention and 
figure, as conveyed by the eye, require the correction of the touch; 
and even motion, which might be supposed to be the peculiar prov- 
ince of sight, can only certainly be ascertained by the touch, because 
the eye often judges motion to be real, when it is but apparent; 
as when, sailing along the shore in a vessel, we fancy the land 
moves. 

365. There appears, upon the whole, to be a real distinc- 
tion between the primary and secondary qualities of body : 
our senses give us a direct and distinct notion of extension, 
divisibility, figure, motion, solidity, hardness, softness, and 
fluidity, which are all primary/ qualities ; but of the seconds 
ary qualities, sound, color, taste, smell, and heat or cold, our 
senses give us only a relative and obscure notion. 

Ohs. A relative notion of a thing is, strictly speaking, no notion 
of the thing at all, but only of some relation which it bears to some- 
thing else. Thus, of the word gravity, I can have a distinct and ac- 
curate notion, when it signifies the tendency of bodies towards the 
earth ; but when it signifies the cause of that tendency, I have no 
conception of what the thing is, though I may think of it as an un- 
known cause of a known effect. This is a relative notion ; and there 
are many objects of thought and discourse, of which our faculties can 
gi\e no better than a relative notion. 



CHAP. II. Of Natural Language and Signs. 165 



CHAPTEPv II. 

OF NATURAL LANGUAGE AND SIGNS. 

366. In Illus. 4. Art. 361. sensations were called natu- 
ral SIGNS. Mankind reciprocally communicate their thoughts 
and intentions, their purposes and desires, by language 
or signs. 

Idas. These signs are of two kinds : first, such as have no meaning, 
but what is affixed to them by compact or agreement among those 
who use them; these are artificial signs. 2dly. Such as, previous to 
all compact and agreement, have a meaning which every man under- 
stands by the principles of his nature. 

Carol. Language, therefore, so far as it consists of artificial signs, 
may be called artificial ; so far as it consists of natural signs, we call 
it natural. 

367. If mankind had not had a natural language, they 
could never have invented an artificial one by their reason 
and ingenuity. For all artificial language supposes some 
compacts or agreements before the use of artificial signs ; 
but there can be no compact or agreement without signs, 
nor without language ; and, therefore, there must be a natu- 
ral language, before an artificial language can be invented. 

368. The elements of the natural language of mankind, 
or the signs that are naturally expressive of our thoughts, 
consist in modulations of the voice, gestures, and features. 

Elus. By means of these, two savages, who have no common arti- 
ficial language, can converse together; can communicate their 
thoughts in some tolerable manner; can ask and refuse, affirm and 
deny, threaten and supplicate ; can traffic, enter into covenants, and 
plight their faith ! Historical facts of undoubted credit are the bases 
of this illustration. 

369. Mankind having thus, by nature, a common language, 
though a scanty one, adapted only to the necessities of na- 
ture, their ingenuity improved it by the addition of artificial 
signs, to supply the deficiency of the natural. 

Illus. These artificial signs multiply with the arts of life, and the 
improvements of knowledge. The articulations of the voice seem to 
be, of all signs, the most proper for artificial language ; and as mankhid 
have universally used them for that purpose, we may reasonably judge 
that nature intended them for it But nature does not intend that we 
should lay aside the use of the natural signs : it is enough that we 
supply their defects by artificial ones. Dumb people retain much 
more of the natural language than others, because necessity obliges 

13* 



166 A Gramma?' of Logic. book hi. 

Ihem to use it. Ahd, for the same reason, savages have much more 
of it than civilized nations. • 

370. It is by natural signs chiefly, that we give force and 
energy to language ; and the less language has of them, it is 
the less expressive and persuasive. 

II his. Thus, w^riting is less expressive than reading, and reading 
less expressive than speaking without book. Speaking without the 
proper and natural modulations, force, and variations of the voice, 
is a frigid and dead language, compared with that which is attended 
with them : it is still more expressive, when we add the language of the 
eyes and features ; and is then only in its perfect and natural state, 
and attended with its proper energy, when to all these we superadd 
the force of action. 

371. Where speech is natural, it vi^ill oe an exercise, not 
of the voice and lungs only, but of all the muscles of the body ; 
like that of dumb people and savages, v^^hose language, as it 
has more of nature, is more expressive, and is more easily 
learned. 

372. Artificial signs signify, they do not express ; they 
speak to the understanding, as algebraical characters may 
do, but the passions, the affections, and the v^ill, hear them 
not; these continue dormant and inactive, till v^^e speak to 
them in the language of nature, to v^hich they are all atten- 
tion and obedience. 

Corol. As men, therefore, are led by nature and necessity to con- 
verse together, they will use every means in their power to make 
themselves understood; and where they cannot do this by artificial 
signs, they will do it, as far as possible, by natural ones ; and he that 
understands perfectly the use of natural signs, must be the best judge 
in all the expressive arts, such as music, painting, acting, and public 
speaking. 

373. As in artificial signs there is often neither similitude 
between the sign and thing signified, nor any connection that 
arises necessarily from the nature of the things, so it is also 
in the natural signs. 

Illus. 1. The word gold has no similitude to the substance signi- 
fied by it J nor is it in its own nature more fit to signify this, than any 
other substance ; yet, by habit and custom, it suggests this, and no 
other. 

2. In like manner, a sensation of touch suggests hardness, although 
it hath neither similitude to hardness, nor, as far as we can perceive, 
any necessary connection with it. {Art. 361.) The difference be- 
tween these two signs, lies on.y in this; that, in the first, the sug- 
gestion is the effect of habit find custom ; in the second, it is not 
the effect of habit, but of the original constitution of our minds. 
[Art. 365.) 

374. There are different orders of natural signs, and dif- 



JHAP. II. Of Natural Language and Signs. 167 

ferent classes into which they may be distinguished, whence 
we may more distinctly conceive the relation between our 
sensations and the things they suggest, and what we mean 
by calling sensations signs of external things. {Art. 366. 
Corol) 

III us. 1. The first class of natural sig-ns comprehends those whose 
connection with the thing signified is established by nature, but dis- 
covered only by experience. The use of genuine philosophy consists 
in discovering such connections, and reducing them to general rules. 
What we commonly call natural causes, might, with more propriety, 
be called natural signs ; and what we call effects, the things signified. 
According to this illustration, we should no longer use the popular 
definitions o? causes, which are of two kinds; 1st. The efficient cause, 
which is the energy or power producing an effect. 2dly. The final 
cause, which is the end or purpose for which an effect is produced. 

2. A second class of natural signs is that wherein the connection 
between the sign and the thing signified is not only established by 
nature, but discovered to us by a natural principle, without reasoning 
or experience. Of this kind are the natural signs of human thoughts, 
purposes, and desires, which have been already mentioned as the 
natural language of mankind. Thus, an infant may be put into a 
fright by an angry countenance, and soothed again by smiles and 
blandishments. And a child that has a good musical ear, may be 
put to sleep or to dance, and may be made merry or sorrowful, by 
the modulation of musical sounds. The principles of all the fine 
arts, and of what we call a fine taste, may be resolved into con- 
nections of this kind. 

3. A third class of natural signs comprehends those which, though 
ire never before had any notion or conception of the thing signified, 
do suggest it, or conjure it up, as it were, by a natural kind of magic, 
and at once give us a conception and create a belief of it. Thus, 
our sensations suggest to us a sentient being or mind to which they 
belong ; but the conception of mind is neither an idea of sensation 
nor of reflection ; for it is neither like any of our sensations, nor like 
any thing of which we are conscious. The first conception of it, as 
well as the belief of it, and the common relation which it bears to all 
that we are conscious of, or remember, is suggested to every thinking 
being, we do not know how. The notion of hardness in bodies, as 
well as the belief of it, are got in a similar manner ; being, by an 
original principle of our nature, annexed to that sensation which we 
have when we feel a hard body. {Art. 373. Ulus. 2.) 

Corol. 1. As the first class of natural signs is the foundation of true 
philosophy, and the second, the foundation of the fine arts, or of taste, 
so the last is the foundation of common sense. 

2. And by all rules of just reasoning, we must conclude, that since 
sensations are invariably connected with the conception and belief of 
external existences, this connection is the effect of our constitution, 
and ought to be considered as an original principle of human na- 
ture, till we find a^me more general principle into which it may be 
resolved. Mi^ 



168 A Grammar of Logic, book hi. 

CHAPTER III. 

OF MATTER AND SPACE. 

375. Of matter. We give the names of matter, materia 
at, substance, body, to the subject of sensible qualities or 
properties. 

Jlhts. I perceive in a billiard ball, figure, color, and motion ; but 
the ball is not figure, nor is it color, nor motion, nor all these taken 
together ; it is something that has figure, and color, and motion. 
(Illus. Art. 182.) This is a dictate of nature, and the belief of all 
mankind. The essence of body is unknown to us; but we have the 
information of nature for the existence of those properties in matter 
which our senses discover. 

376. The belief that figure, motion, and color, are quali- 
ties, and require a subject, must either be a judgment of 
nature, or it must be discovered by reason, or it must be a 
prejudice that has no just foundation. 

Corol. 1. But extension must be in something extended, motion 
in something moved, color in something colored ; and in the structure 
of all languages, we find adjective nouns used to express sensible 
qualities ; but it is well known that every adjective in language must 
belong to some substantive, expressed or understood; that is, every 
quality must belong to some subject: therefore, our opinion, or belief, 
that the things immediately perceived by our senses, are qualities 
which must belong to' a subject, is an immediate judgment of nature, 
not discoverable by reason, nor instilled as a prejudice that has no 
just foundation ; and all the information our senses give us about 
this subject, is, that it is that to which such qualities belong. 

2. From this it is evident, that our notion of body or matter, as dis- 
tinguished from its qualities, is a relative notion. {Art. 365. Obs ) 

Ohs. The relation which sensible qualities bear to their subject, 
that is, to body, may be distinguished from all other relations. Thus, 
you can distinguish it from the relation of an effect to its cause (Art. 
14.) ; of a means to its end (Jirt. 337. Corol.) ; or of a sign to the 
thing signified (Art. 374) . 

377. Some of the determinations, however, vi^hich we 
form concerning matter, cannot be deduced solely from the 
testimony of sense, but must be referred to some other source. 

Illus. There seems to be nothing more evident, than that bodies 
must consist of parts, and that every part of a body is a body, and a 
distinct something w^^ may exist without the other parts ; and yet 
I apprehend this cori^rersion is not deducible solely from the testimony 
c>f sense. For, besides that it is a necessary truth, and therefore no 
object of sense, there is a limit beyond which we cannot perceive anv 



CHAP. HI. Of flatter and Space. 169 

division of a body The parts become too small to be perceived by 
our senses ; but we cannot believe that it becomes then incapable 
of being further divided, or that s&ch division would make it not to 
be a body. 

378. We carry on the division and subdivision in our 
thoughts, far beyond the reach of our senses, and we can 
find no limit to it ; nay, we plainly discern that there can be 
no limit beyond which the division cannot be carried. 

lllus. For, if there be any limit to this division, one of two things 
must necessarily happen ; either we shall come by division to a body 
which is extended, but has no parts, and is absolutely indivisible; or 
this body is divisible, but as soon as it is divided, it becomes no body. 

Both of these positions seem to be absurd, and one^ or the other 
is the necessary consequence of supposing a limit to the divisibility 
of matter. 

379. On the other hand, if it is admitted, that the divisi- 
bility of matter has no limit, it will follow, that no body can 
be called an individual substance ; you may as well call it 
two, or twenty, or two hundred. 

Corol. For where it is divided into parts, every part is a body or 
substance, distinct from all the other parts, and was so even before 
the division^ Any one part, therefore, may continue to exist, though 
all the other parts were annihilated. 

380. There are other determinations concerning matter, 
which, we apprehend, are not solely founded upon the testi- 
mony of sense. 

lllus. These determinations are, that it is impossible that two 
bodies should occupy the same place at the same time ; that the same 
body should be in different places at the same time ; that a body can 
be moved from one place to another without passing through the in- 
termediate places either in a straight course, or by some circuit. 

Corol. These appear to be necessary truths, and therefore cannot 
be conclusions of our senses ; for our senses testify only what is, not 
what must necessarily be. 

381. Of space. Though space be not perceived by any 
of our senses, when all matter is removed ; yet, when we 
perceive any of the primary qualities, space presents itself 
as a necessary concomitant ; for there can neither be exten- 
sion, nor motion, nor figure, nor divisibility, nor cohesion of 
parts, without space. 

382. There are only two of our senses, touch and sight, 
by which the notion of space enters into the mind. 

lUus. A man without either of these senses can have no conception 
of space. And supposing him to have both, until he sees or feels 
other objects, he can have no notion of space ; for it lias neither col- 
or nor figure to make it an object of sight ; and it is no tangible 



170 A Grammar of Logic, book lii. 

quality, to make it an object of touch. But other objects of sight and 
touch cany the notion of space along with them, and not the notion 
only, but the belief of it.; for a body could not exist, if there was no 
space to contain it; nor could it move, if there was no space; and 
its situation, its distance, and every relation which it has to other 
bodies, supposes space. 

383. But though the notion of space seems not to enter 
at first into the mind, until it is introduced by the proper 
objects of sense, yet being once introduced, it remains in 
our conception and belief, though the objects which intro- 
duced it be removed. 

Illus. We see no absurdity in supposing a body to be annihilated, 
but the space that contained it remains ; and to suppose that annihi- 
lated, seems to be absurd. It is so much allied to nothings or empti- 
ness, that it seems incapable of annihilation or of creation. 

384. space not only retains a firm hold of our belief, even 
when we suppose all the objects that introduced it to be 
annihilated, but it swells to immensity. We can set no 
limits, either of extent or duration, to its profundity and im- 
mutability. 

Corol. Hence we call it immense, eternal, immovable, and inde- 
structible. But it is only an immense, eternal, immovable, and in- 
destructible void or emptiness. 

Ohs. The student will here observe, that this language, though pop- 
ular, is sufficiently definite, as is also our reference to the aeriform 
elastic fluid, that fills all space. 

385. When we consider parts of space that have measure 
and figure, there is nothing we understand better, nothing 
about which we can reason so clearly and to so great an 
extent. 

Illus. Extension and figure are circumscribed parts of space, and 
are the objects of Geometry, a science in which human reason has 
the most ample field, and can go deeper, and with more certainty, 
than in any other. But when we attempt to comprehend the whole 
of space, and to trace it to its origin, we lose ourselves in the search. 

386. The philosophers tell us, that our sight, unaided by 
touch, gives a very partial notion of space, but yet a distinct 
one. This partial notion they call visible space. The sense 
of touch, say they, too, gives a much more complete notion 
of space ; and when it is considered according to this notion, 
they call it tangible space. 

Ohs. Visible figure, extension^ and space, may be made the subjects 
«)f mathematical speculation, as well as the tangible. In the visible, 
we find tico dimensions only; in the tangible, three; in the one, mag- 
nitude is measured by angles ; in the other, by lines. 



CHAP. iV. Of Duration, Extension, and Number. 171 

Corol. Every part of visible space bears some proportion to the 
whole ; but tangible space being immense, any part of it bears no pro- 
portion to the whole. {See Dr. Reid's Essays on the Powers of the. 
Mind, Essay II. Cha^. XIX.) 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF DURATION, EXTENSION, AND NUMBER. 

387. In the Illustration of Article 244, it was shown that 
Memory implies a conception and belief of past Duration ; 
for it is impossible that we should remember any thing dis- 
tinctly, without believing some interval of Duration, more or 
less, to have passed between the time that it happened and 
the present moment ; and, if we had no Memory, we could 
acquire no notion of Duration. 

388. Duration, extension^ and number, are the measures 
of all things subject to mensuration. When we apply them 
to finite things, which are measured by them, they seem of 
all things to be the most distinctly conceived, and most 
within the reach of the human understanding. 

Illus. 1. Extension, having three dimensions, has an endless variety 
of modifications, capable of being accurately defined ] and their various 
relations furnish the human mind with its most ample field of demon- 
strative reasoning. 

2. Duration, having only one dimension, has fewer modifications , 
but these are clearly understood ; and their relations admit of meas- 
ure, proportion, and demonstrative reasoning. 

3. JVumber is called decrete quantity, because it is compounded of 
units, which are all equal and similar, and it can only be divided into 
units. 

4. Duration and extension are not decrete, but continued quantity. 
They consist of parts perfectly similar, but divisible without end. 
(See Art. 237. Illus. 1.) 

389. In order to assist our conception of the magnitude 
and proportions of the various intervals of Duration, we find 
it necessary to give a name to some known portion of it, such 
as an hour, a day, a year. 

Bins. These intervals we consider as units ; and, by the number of 
them continued in a larger interval, we form a distinct conception of 
its magnitude. A similar expedient we find necessary, to give us a 
distinct conception of the magnitudes and proportions of things ex- 
tended. Thxss, number is found necessary as ^ common measure oIl 
"extension and duration. 



172 A Grammar of Logic. boor hi, 

390. Some parts of Duration have, to other parts of it, the 
relations of prior and posterior ; and to the present, they 
have the relations of past and future. 

Illus. 1 . The notion of past is immediately suggested by Memory, 
as has been shown above (Jlrt. 387.) ; and when we have apprehended 
the notions of present and past^ and of prior and posterior, we can, 
from these, frame a notion of the future ; for t?ie future is that which 
is posterior to the present. Hence, we say of the past, /ormer, that is, 
prior time ; and as we cannot give the name of posterior to the pres- 
ent, we must assign that term to the future. (See Art. 237. Illus. 2. 
and Example 1.) 

2. JYearness and distance are relations equally applicable to time 
and place. But distance in time,* and distance in place, are things so 
different in their nature, and so like in their relation, that it is diffi- 
cult to determine, whether the name of distance is applied to both in 
the same sense, or in an analogical sense. (See Illus. 3. and Corol. 
Art, 237.) 

391. The Extension of bodies, w^hich w^e perceive by our 
senses, leads us necessarily to the conception and belief of 
a space, which remains immovable v^hen the body is remov- 
ed. And the Duration of events w^hich we remember, leads 
us necessarily to the conception and belief of a Duration, 
which would have gone on uniformly, though the event had 
never happened. [See Art. 243. Illus.) 

Ohs. Thus, this present month of November (1818) would have 
passed away, though no remarkable event had happened in it ; but 
the death of the Queen will make it to be long remembered. 

392. Without space there can be nothing that is extend- 
ed ; and without time, there can be nothing that hath Dura- 
tion. This is undeniable ; and yet we find that Extension 
and Duration are not more clear and intelligible, than space 
and time are dark and difficult objects of contemplation. 

Coral. As there must be space wherever any thing extended does 
exist or can exist ; and time^ when there is or can be any thing that 
has Duration ; we can set no bounds to either, even in our Imagina- 
tion. They bid stern defiance to all limitation. Pursue them in con- 
ception, you plunge with the one into immensity, and with the other, 
into eternity ! 

393. An eternity j?as^ is an object which we cannot com- 
prehend ; but a beginning of time, unless we take it in 9 
figurative sense, is a contradiction. 

Illus. By a common figure of speech, we give the name of time to 
those motions and revolutions, by which we measure it ; such as, days 
and years. (Art. 389.) We can conceive a beginning of these sensible 
measures of time, and say that there icas a time when they were not — 
a time undistinguished by any motion or change ; but to say that ther* 
was a time bfore all time, is a contradiction. 



CHAP. V. Of Identity. l73 

394. All limited Duration is comprehended in Time, and 
all limited Extension, in Space. These, in their capacious 
womb, contain all finite existences, but are contained by 
none, 

Illus. Created things have their particular places in space, and 
their particular places in time ; but time is every where^ and space at 
all times ; therefore you, and I, and all of us, who, in the language of 
Trim, ''are here to-day and gone to-morrow/* have our particular 
places in space, and our particular places in time. Time and space 
embrace each the other, and have that mysterious union which the 
schoolmen conceived between soul and body — the whole of each is in 
every part of the other. 



CHAPTER V. 

OF IDENTITY. 

395. In treating of Memory, one of our positions runs 
thus : " The remembrance of a past event is necessarily ac- 
companied with the conception of our own existence at the 
time the event happened." [Art. 245.) 

Obs. The conviction which each of us has of his own Identity, as 
far back as his memory reaches, needs no aid of philosophy to give it 
strength ) nor can it be weakened by any philosophy, without first 
producing some degree of insanity. 

396. This conviction is indispensably necessary to all ex- 
ercise of reason. The operations of reason, whether in ac- 
tion or in speculation, are made up of successive parts. The 
antecedent operations are the foundation of the consequent 
{Art. 132. Illus. and Art. 133.) ; and without the conviction 
that the anteced-ent have been seen or done by me, I could 
have no reason to proceed to the consequent, in any specu- 
lation, or in any active project whatever. 

Ohs. That we may form as distinct a notion as we are able of this 
phenomenon of the human mind, it is proper to consider, j^r^. What 
is meant by Identity in general ; Secondly, What by our own personal 
Identity ; and how we are led to that invincible belief and conviction, 
which every man has of his own personal Identity, to any period in 
which his memory is present. 

I. What is meant by Identity in General. 

397. Dr. Reid takes Identity in general to be a relation 
between a thing which is known to exist at one time, and a 
thing which is known to have existed at another. If you ask, 

14 



174 A Gran mar of Logic. book itr. 

'' Whether they are one and the same, or two different 
things," every man of common sense understands perfectly 
the meaning of your question. 

Carol. Whence we may infer with certainty, that every man of 
common sense has a clear and distinct notion of Identity. (See 
Art.S.) 

Ohs. The term Identity conveys a notion too simple for a logical 
definition. It conveys an idea of relation, which none confound with 
other relations. 

398. Identity supposes an uninterrupted continuance of 
existence. (See Art. 52. Illus. 1 and 2.) 

Jllus. That which hath ceased to exist, cannot be the same with 
that which afterwards begins to exist ; for this would be to suppose a 
being to exist after it had ceased to exist, and to have had existence 
before it was produced, which are manifest contradictions. Contin- 
ued and uninterrupted existence is, therefore, necessarily implied in 
Identity. 

Corol. Hence we may infer, that Identity cannot, in its proper 
sense, be applied to our pains, our pleasures, our thoughts, or any 
operations of our minds. The headache I feel this day is not the 
same individual headache which I felt yesterday ; though, as far as I 
can judge, they are similar in kind and intensity of pain, and probably 
have the same cause. The same may be said of every feeling, and of 
every operation of mind; they are all successive in their nature, like 
time itself, no two moments of which can be the same moment. It is 
otherwise with the parts of space : they always are, they always were, 
and they always will be the same. 

Note. The ground does not appear any further clear, in fixing the 
notion of Identity in general. 

II. Of Personal Identity, 

399. It is, perhaps, more difficult to fix v^^ith precision the 
meaning of personality ; but it is not necessary in the pres- 
ent subject. It is sufficient for our purpose to observe, that 
all mankind place their personality in something that cannot 
be divided, or that cannot consist of parts. A part of you or 
of me, is a manifest absurdity. 

Illus. When a man loses his estate, his health, his strength, he is 
still the same person, and has lost nothing of his personality. The 
Marquis of Anglesea lost a leg at the battle of Waterloo, but he is the 
same person he was before. A person is something indivisibl-e, and is 
what Leibnitz calls a monad. 

400. Any personal identity, therefore, implies the contin- 
ued existence of that indivisible thing, which I call myself 
{Art. 52.) 

Illtis. Whatever this self may be, it is something which thinks, 
and deliberates, and resolves, and acts, and suffers. I am not 



CHAi*. V. Of Identity. lT5 

thought, nor action, nor feeling ; yet am I something that thinks, and 
acts, and suffers. My thoughts, and actions, and feelings, change 
every moment ; they have no continued, but a successive existence ; 
but that sdf, or /, to which they belong, am permanent, and have 
the same relation to all the succeeding thoughts, actions, and feelings, 
which 1 call mine. 

401. Such are the notions that I have of my personal 
Identity. But perhaps it may be said, this is all fancy, 
without reality ; and the skeptic may demand, How do you 
know, what evidence have you, that there is such a perma- 
nent self, which has a claim to all the thoughts, actions, and 
feelings, which you call yours 1 

Illus. To this I answer, that the proper evidence which 1 have 
of all this, is remembrance. (See Art. 246. and its Illustrations.) I 
remember, that, in the year 1814, I published <• A Treatise on the 
Construction of Maps." I remember several things that happened 
while that work was printing ; and among these, that my friend, 
Peter Nicholson, very obligingly read over the proof sheets of that 
work for me. My memory testifies, not only that the book in ques- 
tion was printed, but that it was printed from a mcinuscript, which I, 
who now remember, wrote or compiled. Supposing that no copy 
of this work were now extant ; still, if it was done by me, I must 
have existed at that time, and continued to exist, in one place or 
another, from that time to the present. If the identical person, whom 
I call myself, did not write that book, my memory is fallacious ; it 
gives a distinct and positive testimony of what is not true. But 
every man in his senses believes what he distinctly remembers; and 
every thing he remembers, convinces him, that he existed at the 
time remembered. 

402 When we pass judgment on the Identity of other 
persons besides ourselves, we proceed upon other grounds, 
and determine from a variety of circumstances, which some- 
times produce the firmest assurance, and sometimes leave 
room for doubt. 

Ohs. The Identity of persons has often furnished matter of serious 
litigation, before tribunals of justice. 

rius. The Identity of a person is a perfect identity ; wherever it 
is real, it admits of no degrees ; and it is impossible that a person 
should be in part the same, and in part different ; because a person 
is a monad, and is not divisible into parts. The evidence of Identity 
in other persons besides ourselves, does indeed admit of all degrees, 
from what we account certainty, to the least degree of probability. 
But still it is true, that the same person is perfectly the same, and 
cannot be so in part, or in some degree only. The honest Hibernian 
who accosted a stranger in London, saying, '^ I thought it was you, 
but I see now it is your brother ;" though the author of a sad hull, af- 
fords a happy illustration of the judgment we pass on other persona 
besides ourselves 



176 A G7*ammar of Logic. book hi. 

403. Our judgments of the Identity of objects of sense 
seem to be formed much upon the same grounds ;,s our 
judgments of the Identity of other persons besides the self- 
identity which we have of ourselves. 

Ilius. 1. Wherever there is great similarity, we are apt to pre- 
sume Identity, if no reason appears to the contrary : when two 
objects, ever so hke, are perceived at the same time, they cannot 
be the same. But if they are presented to our senses at different 
times, we are apt to think them the same, merely from their simi- 
larity. 

2. Whether this is a natural prejudice, or from what cause soever 
it proceeds, it certainly appears in children from infancy ; and when 
they grow up, it is confirmed, in most instances, by experience ; for, 
of the same species, men rarely find two individuals that are not dis- 
tinguishable by obvious differences. 

Example. A man challenges a thief whom he finds in possession of 
his horse or his watch, only on similarity. When the watchmaker 
swears, that he sold this watch to such a person, his testimony is 
grounded on similarity. The testimony of witnesses to the identity 
of a person, is commonly grounded on no better evidence. 

Corol. Thus it appears, that the evidence we have of our own 
Identity, as far back as we remember, is totally of a different kind 
from the evidence we have of the Identity of other persons, or of 
objects of sense. The first is grounded on memory, and gives un- 
doubted certainty : the last is grounded on similarity, and on other 
circumstances, which, in many cases, are not so decisive as to leave 
no room for doubt. 

404. The Identity of objects of sense is never perfect, be- 
cause, as they consist of parts, which, from a variety of 
causes, are subject to continual changes, the substances of 
which they are made up, are insensibly changing, increas- 
ing, or diminishing. 

Illus. Thus we say of an old regiment, the 42d, for example, that 
it scaled the heights of Abraham at Quebec, though there noiv is not 
a man alive that belonged to it then. Also a ship of war, which has 
successively changed her anchors, her tackle, her sails, her masts, her 
planks, and her timbers, while she keeps the same name, is still the 
same. 

Corol. 1. The Identity, therefore, which we ascribe to bodies, 
whether natural or artificial, is not perfect Identity ; it is rather 
something, which, for the conveniency of speech, we call Identity. 
It admits of great change of the subject, providing the change be 
gradual, sometimes even of a total change 3 as that of my country- 
man's pistol, which, with a 7ieiD stock, a neiv lock, and a new barrel, 
was still his oh/ pistol. 

2. And the changes, which, in common language, are made con- 
sistently with Identity, differ from those that are thought to destroy 
it, not in kind, but in number and degree. It has no fixed nature 
when applied to bodies; and questions about the Identity of a body 
are very often questions about words. But Identity, when applied 
to persons, has no ambiguity, and admits not of degrees, or of mor^ 



CHAP. VI. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. Ill 

or less. It is the foundation of all rights and obligations, and of all 
accountableness ; and the notion of it is fixed and precise 



\ 



CHAPTER VL 

OF THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT IN THE MIND. 

405. Every man is conscious of a Succession of Thoughts 
which pass in his mind while he is awake, even when they 
are not excited by external objects. 

Ohs. The mind on this account has been compared to liquor m 
the state of fermentation. When it is not in this state, being once 
at rest, it remains at rest, until it is moved by some external im- 
pulse or internal prompter. But, in the state of fermentation, it has 
some cause of motion in itself, which, even when there is no impulse 
from without, suffers it not to be at rest a moment, but produces a 
constant motion and ebullition, while it continues to ferment. 

406. There is surely no similitude between motion and 
Thought ; but there is an analogy, so obvious to all men, that 
the same words are often applied to both ; and many modi- 
fications of Thought have no name but such as is borrowed 
from the modifications of motion. (See ^rf. 223 and 238. 
Illus. 1 and 2.) 

Obs. 1. Many Thoughts are excited by the senses. The causes 
or occasions of these may be considered as external ; but, when 
such external causes do not operate upon us, we continue to think 
from some internal cause. From the constitution of the mind itself 
there is a constant ebullition of Thought, a constant intestine motion ) 
not only of Thoughts barely speculative, but of sentiments, passions, 
and affections, which attend them. (See Art. 224. Illus.) 

2. This continued succession of thought has, by some philosophers, 
been called the imagination. It was formerly called the fancy, or the 
'phantasy. If the old name be laid aside, it were to be wished that a 
name were given to it less ambiguous than that of Imagination, — a 
name which has two or three meanings besides. (^Jlrt. 259. Ohs. 1 
and 2, and Art. 141 .) 

3. It is often called the train of ideas. This may lead one to think, 
that it is a train of bare conceptions ; but this would surely be a 
mistake. It is made up of many other operations of mind, as well as 
of conceptions, or ideas. {Art. 200.) 

Example. Memory, judgment, reasoning, passions, affections, and 
purposes; in a word, every operation of the mind (excepting those of 
sense) is exerted occasionally in this Train of Thought, and has 
its share as an ingredient ; so that we must take the word idea in a 

14* 



I "78 A Grammar of Logic. book hi 

very extensive sense, if we make the Train of our Thoughts to be 
only a Train of Ideas. (See ^rL 36. Illus. 1, 2, and 3.) 

407. To pass from the name, and consider the thing, we 
may observe, that the trains of thought in the mind are 
of two kinds : 

First, they are either such as flow spontaneously, like 
water from a fountain, without any exertion of a governing 
principle to arrange them. {Art. 202.) 

Or, secondly, they are regulated and directed by an 
active eftbrt of the mind, with some view and intention. 
(Art. 203 and 224.) 

Ohs. Before we consider these in their order, it is proper to pre- 
mise, that these two kinds, how distinct soever in their nature, are 
for the most part mixed, in persons awake and come to years of un- 
derstanding. (See Jlrt. 199.) 

Illus. 1. On the one hand, we are rarely so vacant of all project 
and design, as to let our Thoughts take their own course without the 
least check or direction ; or if at any time we should be in this state, 
some object will present itself, which is too interesting not to engage 
the attention, and rouse the active or contemplative powers that were 
at rest. {.^rt. 201.) 

2. On the other hand, when a man is giving the most intense 
application to any speculation, or to any scheme of conduct, when he 
wishes to exclude every thought that is foreign to his present purpose ; 
such Thoughts will often impertinently intrude upon him, in spite of 
his endeavors to the contrary, and occupy, by a kind of violence, 
some part of the time destined to another purpose. One man may 
have the command of his Thoughts more than another man, and the 
same man, more at one time than at another ; but I apprehend, that in 
the best trained mind, the Thoughts will sometimes be restive, some- 
times capricious and self-willed, even when it is wished to have them 
most under command. 

408. We must ascribe to Him who made us, and not to 
the mind, the power of calling up any Thought at pleasure, 
because such a call or volition supposes that Thought to be 
already in the mind ; for otherwise, how should it be the 
object of volition ? As this must be granted on the one hand, 
so it is no less certain on the other, that a man has a consid- 
erable power in regulating and disposing his own Thoughts. 
Of this every man is conscious, and I can no more doubt of 
it, than I can doubt whether I think now, as I was obliged 
to think when I wrote the Illustration to Article 90. 

lUus. 1. We seem to treat the Thoughts that present themselves to 
the Fancy in crowds, as a great man treats the persons who attend 
his levee. They are all ambitious of his attention ; he goes round 
the circle, bestowing a boto upon on?e, a smile upon another ; asks a 
$hort question of a third j while a fourth is honored with a particular 



CHAP. VI. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 179 

conference ; and the greater part have no particular mark of attention, 
but go as they came. It is true, he can give no mark of his attention 
to those who were not there, but he has a sufficient number for making 
a choice and distinction. 

2. In hke manner, a number of Thoughts present themselves to 
the Fancy spontaneously ; but if we pay no attention to them, if we 
hold no conference with them, they pass with the crowd, and^are 
immediately forgotten, as if they had never appeared. But those to 
which we think proper to pay attention, may be stopped, examined, 
and arranged, for any particular purpose which we have in view. (See 
Chaii. VI Book /.) 

409. It may likewise be observed, that a Train of Thought, 
which was at first composed by application and judgment, 
when it has been often repeated, and becomes familiar, will 
present itself spontaneously. Thus, when a man has com- 
posed an air in music, so as to please his own ear — after he 
has played or sung it often — the notes will arrange them- 
selves in just order ; and it requires no effort to regulate 
their su(?cession. (See Art. 136, and Art. 128. Illus.) 

Ulus. Thus we see, that the Fancy is made up of Trains of Think- 
ing ; some of which are spontaneous, others studied and regulated ; 
and the greater part are mixed of both kinds, and take their denomi- 
nation from that which is most prevalent ; and that a Train of 
Thought, which at first was studied and composed, may by habit pre- 
sent itself spontaneously. (See Art. 130.) 

I. Of Spontaneous Trains of Thought. 

410. When the work of the day is over, and a man lies 
down to relax his body and mind, he cannot cease from 
Thinking, though he desire it. Something occurs to his 
Fancy, that is followed by another thing; and so his 
Thoughts are carried on from one object to another, until 
sleep closes the scene. 

Tllus. In this operation of the mind, it is not one faculty only that 
is employed ; there are many that join together in its production. 
Sometimes the transactions of the day are brought upon the stage, 
and acted over again, as it were, upon this theatre of the Imagina- 
tion. In this case. Memory surely acts the most considerable part, 
since the scenes exhibited are not fictions, but realities, which are 
remembered ; yet in this case the Memory does not act alone — 
other powers are employed, and attend upon their proper objects. 
The transactions remembered will be more or less interesting; and 
we cannot then review our own conduct, nor that of others, with- 
out passing some judgment upon it. This we approve, that w^e dis- 
approve. {Jlrt. 355.) This elevates, that humbles and depresses 
us. (Art. 359.) Persons that are not absolutely indifferent to us 
can hardly appear, even to the Imagination, without some friendly 
or unfriendly emotion. (Art. 360.) We judge and reason about 



180 A Grammar of Logic, book hi. 

things as well as persons in such reveries. We remember what a 
man said and did ; from this we pass to his designs, and to his gen- 
eral character, and frame some hypothesis to make the whole con- 
sistent. Such Trains of Thought we may call Historical. (See Ex- 
ample, Art. 359.) 

411. There are others which we may call romantic, in 
wtftch the plot is formed by the creative power of Fancy, 
without any regard to what did or what will happen. In 
these, also, the powers of judgment, taste, moral sentiment, 
as well as the passions and affections, come in and take a 
share in the execution. (See Art. 264. Illus. 1 and 2.) 

Illus. 1. In these scenes, the man himself commonly acts a very 
distinguished part, and seldom does any thing that he does not ap- 
prove. Here the miser will be generous, the coward brave, and the 
knave honest. Mr. Addison, in the Spectator j calls this play of the 
Fancy, castle-building. 

2. A castle-builder, in his fictitious scenes, will figure, not accord- 
ing to his real character, but according to the highest opinion he has 
been able to form of himself, and perhaps far beyond that opinion. 
For in those imaginary conflicts the passions easily yield to reason, 
and a man exerts the noblest efforts of virtue and magnanimity, with 
the same ease as, in his dreams, he flies through the air, or plunges 
to the bottom of the ocean 

412. The Romantic scenes of Fancy are most commonly 
the occupation of young minds, not yet so deeply engaged 
in life as to have their Thoughts taken up by its real cares 
and business. (See Art. 275 and 269.) 

[[Jus. 1. Those active powers of the mind, which are most luxu 
riant by constitution, or have been most cherished by education, im- 
patient to exert themselves, hurry the Thought into scenes that 
give them play ', and the boy commences in Imagination, according to 
the bent of his mind, a general or a statesman, a poet or an orator. 
(See Art. 276.) 

2. When the Fair Ones become castle-builders, they use different 
materials ; and while the young soldier is carried into the field of Mars, 
where he pierces the thickest squadrons of the enemy, despising 
death in all its forms ; the gay and lovely nymph, whose heart has 
never felt the tender passion, is transported into ti brilliant assembly, 
where she draws the attention of every eye, and makes an impression 
on the noblest heart. 

3. But no sooner has Cupid's arrow found its way into her heart, 
than the whole scenery of her Imagination is changed. Balls and 
assemblies have now no charms. Woods and groves, the flowery bank 
and the crystal fountain, are the scenes she frequents in Imagination. 
She becomes an Arcadian shepherdess, feeding her bleating flock be- 
side that of her Strephon, and wishes for nothing more to complete 
her present happiness. 

4. In a few years the love-sick maid is transformed into the so- 
Ucitous mother. Her smiling offspring play around her. She view*' 



CHAP. VI. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind, 181 

Uiem with a parent's eye. Her Imagination immediately raises them 
to manhood, and brings them forth upon the stage of hfe. One son 
makes a figure in the army, anotiier shines at the bar ; her daughters 
are happily disposed of in marriage, and bring new aUip.nces to the 
family. Her '' children's children " rise up before her, and venerate 
her gray hairs. 

Carol. Thus, the spontaneous sallies of Fancy are as various as. the 
cares and fears, the desires and hopes, of man. 

Illus. 5. These fill up the scenes of Fancy, as well as the page of 
the satirist. Whatever possesses the heart, makes occasional excur- 
sions into the Imagination, and acts such scenes upon that theatre as 
are agreeable to the p.evailing passion. The man of traffic, who has 
committed a rich cargo to the inconstant ocean, follows it in his 
thought ; and, according as his hopes or his fears prevail, he is haunted 
with storms, and rocks, and shipwreck ; or he makes a happy and a 
lucrative voyage, and before his vessel has lost sight of land, he has 
disposed of the profit which she is to bring at her return. 

6. The poet is carried into the Elysian fields, where he converses 
with the ghosts of Homer and Orpheus. The philosopher makes a 
tour through the planetary system, or goes down to the centre of the 
earth, and examines its various strata. In the devout man, likewise, 
the great objects that possess his heart often play in his Imagination ; 
sometimes he is transported to the regions of the blessed, from whence 
he looks down with pity upon the folly and the pageantry of human 
life ; or he prostrates himself, with devout veneration, before the 
throne of the Most High ; or he converses with celestial spirits about 
the natural and moral kingdom of God, which he now sees only by a 
faint light, but hopes hereafter to view with a steadier and a clear- 
er eye. 

413. In persons arrived at maturity, there is, even in 
these spontaneous sallies of Fancy, some arrangement of 
Thought ; and I conceive that it v^^ill be readily allow^ed, 
that, in those vi^ho have the greatest stock of know^ledge, and 
the best natural parts, even the spontaneous movements of 
Fancy will be the most regular and connected. They have 
an order, connection, and unity, by which they are no less 
distinguished from the dreams of one asleep, or the ravings 
of one delirious, on the one hand, than from the finished 
productions of art on the other. 

Carol. 1. It is, therefore, in itself highly probable, to say no more 
of the matter, that whatsoever is regular and rational in a Train of 
Thought, which, without any study, presents itself spontaneously to a 
man's Fancy, is a copy of what had been before composed by his own 
rational powers, or those of some other person. (Illus. 2. Art. 264.) 

Example. We certainly judge so in similar cases. Thus, in a book 
I find a Train of Thinking, which has the marks of knowledge and 
judgment. I ask how it was produced. It is printed in a book. This 
does not satisfy me, because the book has neither knowledge nor rea- 
son. I am told that a printer printed it, and a compositor set the 



IH2 A Grammar of Logic. book hi. 

types. Neither does this satisfy me. These causes, perhaps, knev* 
very little of the subject. There must be a prior cause of the com- 
position. It was printed from a manuscript. True ; but the manu- 
script is as ignorant as the printed booii. The manuscript was written 
or dictated by a man of knowledge and judgment. Such a Train of 
Thinking could not originally be produced by any cause that neither 
reasons nor thinks. • 

Corol. 2. Whether such a Train of Thinking be printed in a book, 
or printed, so to speak, in his mind, and issue spontaneously from his 
Fancy, it must have been composed with judgment by himself, or by 
some other rational being. 

II. Of a regular Train of Thought, 

414. By a regular Train of Thought, we mean that which 
has a beginning, a middle, and an end, and an arrangement 
of its parts, according to some rule, or with some intention. 
Thus the conception of a design, and of the means of exe- 
cuting it ; the conception of a whole, and the number and 
order of the parts — are instances of the most simple Trains 
of Thought that can be called regular. 

Illus. Man has, undoubtedly, a power (whether we call it taste or 
judgment, is not of any consequence in the present argument) where 
by he distinguishes between a composition and a heap of materials ; 
between a house, for instance, and a heap of stones ; between a sen- 
tence and a heap of words ; between a picture and a heap of colors. 
Children have no regular Trains of Thought until judgment begins to 
operate. Those who are born such idiots as never to show any signs 
of judgment, show as few signs of regularity of Thought. It seems, 
therefore, that judgment is connected with all regular Trains of 
Thought, and may be the cause of them. 

415. Such Trains of Thought discover themselves in 
children about two years of age. They can then give atten- 
tion to the operations of older children in making their little 
houses and ships, and other such things, in imitation of the 
works of men. 

lUus. 1. They are then capable of understanding a little of language, 
which shows both a regular Train of Thinking, and some degree of 
abstraction. I think we may perceive a distinction between the facul- 
ties of children of two or three years of age and those of the most 
sagacious brutes. They can then perceive design and regularity in 
the works of others, especially of older children ; their little minds 
are fired with the discovery ; they are eager to imitate it, and never 
at rest till they can exhibit something of the same kind. 

2. When a child first learns by imitation to do something that re- 
quires design, how does he exult ! Pythagoras was not more happy 
in the discovery of his famous theorem. He seems then first to re- 
flect upon himself, and to swell with self-esteem- His eyes sparkk 



CHAP. VI. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind 183 

He is impatient to show his performanoe to all aboul him, and thinks 
himself entitled to their applause. He is applauded by all, and feels 
the same kind of emotion from this applause, as a Homan consul did 
from a triumph. He has now a consciousness of some worth in him- 
self. He assumes a superiority over those who are not so wise ; and 
pays respect to those who are wiser than himself. He attempts some- 
thing else, and is every day reaping new laurels. 

416. As children grow up, they are delighted with tales, 
with childish games, with designs and stratagems : every 
thing of this kind stores the Fancy with a new regular 
Train of Thought, which becomes familiar by repetition, so 
that one part draws the whole after it in the Imagination. 
{Art. 422.) 

Obs. 1. The imagination of a child, like the hand of a painter, is 
long employed in copying the works of others, before it attempts any 
invention of its own. 

2. The power of Invention is not yet brought forth, but it is com- 
ing forward, and, like the bud of a tree, is ready to burst its integu- 
ments, when some accident aids its eruption. 

417. There is no power of the understanding that gives so 
much pleasure to the owner as that of Invention ; whether it 
be employed in mechanics, in science, in the conduct of life, 
in poetry, in wit, or in the fine arts. 

lllus. One who is conscious of it, acquires thereby a worth and 
importance in his own eye which he had not before. He looks upon 
himself as one who formerly lived upon the bountj^ and gratuity of 
others, but who has now acquired some property of his own. (See 
I lus. 6 and 7. Art. 427.) When this power begins to be felt in the 
young mind, it has the grace of novelty added to its other charms, 
and, like the youngest child of the family, is caressed beyond all 
the rest. 

Corol. We may be sure, therefore, that as soon as children are con- 
scious of this power, they will exercise it in such ways as are suited 
to their age, and to the objects about which they are employed. This 
gives rise to innumerable new associations, and regular Trains of 
Thought, which make the deeper impression upon the mind, as they 
are its exclusive property. 

418. Thus we conceive, that the minds of children, as 
soon as they have judgment to distinguish what is regular, 
orderly, and connected, from a mere medley of Thought, 
are, by these means, furnished with regular Trains of 
Thinking. 

lllus. 1. First and chiefly, by copying what they see in the works 
and in the discourse of others. Man is the most imitative of all ani- 
mals ; he not only imitates intentionally what he thinks has any grace 
or beauty, but even without intention, he is led by a kind of instinct 
(which it is difficult to resist) into the modes of speaking, thinking, 
and acting, which he has been accustomed to see and hear in hia 



184 A Grammar of Logic. book hi. 

early years. The more children see of what is regular and beautiful 
in what is presented to them, the more they are led to observe and to 
imitate it. 

Corol. This is the chief part of their stock, and descends to them 
by a kind of tradition from those who came before them ; and we 
shall find, that the Fancy of most men is furnished from those with 
whom they have conversed, as well as from their religion, language, 
and manners. 

lllus. 2. Secondly, By the additions or innovations that are proper- 
ly their own, their Trains of Thinking v/ill be greater or less, in pro- 
portion to their study and invention ; but in the bulk of mankind, 
study and invention are not very considerable. Hence the barrenness 
of their mind. 

Obs. Every profession, and every rank in life, has a manner of 
Thinking, and a turn of Fancy, that are peculiarly its own ; and by 
which it is characterized in plays and works of humor. The bulk of 
men of the same nation, of the same rank, and of the same occupation, 
are cast as it were in the same mould. This mould itself changed 
gradually, but slowly, by new inventions, by intercourse with stran- 
gers, or by other accidents. 

419. The several imaginations even of men of good parts, 
never serve them readily, except in things wherein they 
have been much exercised. A minister of state holds a 
conference vi^ith a foreign ambassador, with no greater emo- 
tion than a professor in a college prelects to his pupils. The 
Imagination of each presents to him what the occasion re- 
quires to be said, and how it should be delivered. Let them 
change places, and either would find himself at a loss. (See 
Art, 421.) 

I/lus. The habits which the human mind is capable of acquiring by 
exercise, are in many instances wonderful ; in none more wonderful, 
than in that versatility of Imagination, which a well-bred man ac- 
quires, by .being much exercised in the various scenes of life. In 
the morning he visits a friend in affliction. Here his Imagination 
brings forth from its store every topic of consolation ; every thing 
that is agreeable to the laws of friendship and sympathy, and nothing 
that is not so. From thence he drives to the minister's levee, where 
Imagination readily suggests what is proper to be said or replied to 
every man, and in what manner, according to the degree of ac- 
quaintance or familiarity, of rank or dependence, of opposition or 
concurrence of interests, of confidence or distrust, that is between 
them. Nor does all this employment hinder him from carrying on 
some design with much artifice, and endeavoring to penetrate into 
the views of others through the closest disguises. From the levee 
he goes to the House of Commons, and speaks upon the affairs of 
the nation ; from thence to a ball or assembly, and entertains the 
ladies. His Imagination puts on the friend, the courtier, the patriot, 
the fine gentleman, with more ease than we put off one suit and put 
on another. 

Corol. This is the effect of training and exercise. For a man of 



CHAP. VI. Of the Train of Thought in the Mind. 185 

equal parts and knowledge, but unaccustomed to those scenes of 
public life, is quite disconcerted when first brought into them. His 
thoughts are put to flight, and he cannot rally them. 

420. Feats of Im agination may be learned by application 
and practice, as wonderful and as useless as the feats of 
balancers and rope-dancers. [Art, 131.) 

Illus. 1. When a man can make a hundred verses standing on one 
foot, or play three or four games at chess at the same time, without 
seeing the board, it is probable he hath spent his life in acquiring 
such a feat. However, such unusual phenomena show what habits 
of Imagination may be acquired. 

2. When such habits are acquired and perfected, they are exer- 
cised without any laborious effort ; like the habit of playing upon an 
instrument of music. There are innumerable motions of the fingers 
upon the stops or keys, which must be directed in one particular 
train or succession. There is onl^^ one arrangement of those motions 
that is right, while there are ten thousand that are wrong, and would 
spoil the music. The musician thinks not in the least of the arrange- 
ment of those motions; he has a distinct idea of the tune, and wills 
to play it. The motions of the fingers arrange themselves, so as to 
answer his intention. {Illus. 2. Jirt. 138.) 

3. In like manner, when a man speaks upon a subject with which 
he is acquainted, there is a certain arrangement of his Thoughts and 
words necessary to make his discourse sensible, pertinent, and gram- 
matical. In every sentence, there are more rules of grammar, logic, 
and rhetoric, that may be transgressed, than there are words and let- 
ters in the sentence. He speaks without thinking of any of those 
rules, and yet observes them all, as if they were all in his eye. 

4. This is a habit so similar to that of a player on an instrument, 
that both seem to be acquired in the same way, that is, by much 
practice, and the power of habit. {Art. 126.) 

5. When a man speaks well and methodically upon a subject 
without study, and with perfect ease, I believe we may take it for 
granted that his Thoughts run in a beaten track. There is a mould 
in his mind, which has been formed by much practice, or by study, 
for this very subject, or for some other so similar and so analogous, 
that his discourse falls with ease into this mould, and takes its form 
from it. 

III. Of the Means of improving a Train of Thought. 

421. We have now considered the operations of Fancy 
that are either spontaneous or regular ; and have endeavored 
to account for their regularity and arrangement. The 
natural powers of Judgment and Invention, the pleasure 
that always attends the exercise of those powers, the means 
we have of improving them by our imitation of others, and 
the effect of practice and habit, sufficiently account for this 
phenomenon, this Train of Thought, without supposing any 

15 



186 A Grammar of Logic. book tii. 

unaccountable attractions by which our Ideas arrange them- 
selves. (See Art. 127 and 128.) 

IlJus. 1. But we are able to direct our thoughts in a certain course, 
so as to perforin a destined task. 

2. Everj work of art has its model framed in the Imagination. 
Here the lUad of Homer, the Republic of Plato, the Principia of 
Newton, were fabricated. Shall we believe, that those works took 
the form in which they now appear of themselves .'' That the sen- 
timents, the manners, and the passions, arranged themselves at once 
in the mind of Homer, so as to form the Iliad ? Was there no more 
effort in the composition, than there is in telling a well-known tale, 
or singing a favorite song ? This cannot be believed. (Example, 
Art. 413.) 

3. Granting that some happy Thought first suggested the design 
of singing the wrath of Achilles, yet, surely, it was a matter of 
Judgment and choice where the narration should begin, and where 
it should end. 

4. Granting that the fertility of the poet's Imagination suggested 
a variety of rich materials ; was not Judgment necessary to select 
what was proper, to reject what was improper, to arrange the mate- 
rials into a just composition, and to adapt them to each other, and 
to the design of the whole ? (Art. 244.) 

5. No man can believe that Homer's ideas, merely by certain 
sympathies and antipathies, by certain attractions and repulsions in- 
herent in their natures, arranged themselves according to the most 
perfect rules of epic poetry : and Newton's according to the rules of 
Mathematical composition. (See Jii't. 275. Example 2.) 

Corol. The Train of Thinking, therefore, is capable of being 
guided and directed, much in the same manner as the horse we ride. 
The horse has his strength, his agility, and his mettle, in himself; 
he has been taught certain movements, and many useful habits that 
make him more subservient to our purposes, and obedient to our will ; 
but to accomplish a journey, he must be directed by the rider. 

422. In like manner, Fancy has its original powers, which 
are very different in different persons ; it has, likewise, more 
regular motions, to which it has been trained by a long 
course of discipline and exercise ; and by which it may, 
ex tempore, and without much effort, produce things that 
have a considerable degree of beauty, regularity and design. 
{Art. 264.) 

Illus. But the most perfect works of design are never extempo- 
rary. Our first Thoughts are reviewed ; we place them at a proper 
distance ; examine every part, and take a complex view of the 
whole : by our critical faculties, we perceive this part to be redun- 
dant, that deficient ; here is a want of nerves, there a want of deli- 
cacy ; this is obscure, that too diffuse : things are marshalled anew, 
according to a second and more deliberate judgment ; what was 
deficient is supplied ; what was dislocated is put in joint ] reduu- 



CHAP. VII. Df Prejudices, 187 

dancies are lopped off, and the whole polished. (See Art. 270. and 
llus,) 

2. Though poets, of all artists, make the highest claim to inspiration, 
yet, if we believe Horace, a competent judge, no production in that 
art can have merit, which has not cost such labor as this in the birth. 
(See jJrt. 277. and lUus.) 

Corol. The conclusion we would draw from all that has been said 
upon this subject is, That every thing that is regular in that Train of 
Thought, which we call Fancy or Imagination, from the little designs 
and reveries of children, to the grandest productions of human genius, 
was originally the offspring of imitation, judgment, and taste, applied 
with some effort, greater or less. (Corol. 1. and 2. Jlrt. 264.) What 
one person composed with art and judgment, is imitated by another 
with great ease. What a man himself at first composed with pains, 
becomes by habit so familiar, as to offer itself spontaneously to his 
Fancy afterwards ; but nothing of merit that rs regular, was ever con- 
ceived without design, nor executed without attention and care. 
(See the Illus. and Examples to Art, 275.) 



CHAPTER VIL 

OF PREJUDICES. 

423. The perfection o^ judgment is, to compare our ideas 
fiirly and candidly, either by juxtaposition, as in the case of 
intuitive propositions, or by the intervention of intermediate 
ideas, when proof is requisite, and to pass a decision on that 
comparison, according to truth and justice, unbiased by par- 
tiality or prejudice, unseduced by fallacious appearances in 
things, by ambiguities in words, or by a disposition to deceive, 
or to be deceived. (See Art. 278. and 358.) 

Ellis. As, then, the purpose of all our inquiries is, to discover truth 
and knowledge, and as the completion of this discovery consists in 
discerning the agreement or disagreement of our ideas, it is plain that 
we cannot proceed one step without having constant recourse to the 
operation of judgment. We exert it immediately in cases of in- 
tuition ; we exert it at the conclusion of every process of reasoning, 
in determining whether two principal ideas agree or disagree ; and 
we exert it in every step of that process, in deciding concerning the 
agreement or disagreement of each couple of intermediate ideas. 
(lllus. Art. 279.) The candid inquirer, therefore, should study to 
preserve his mind in a state fitted to perform this operation in a proper 
manner, and to divest it of all obstructions or encumbrances which 
may interfere with its success. Without this precaution, it is vain 
to pretend to discover truth, because we shall only perplex and 
discompose our minds, spend our time in irksoiueness to ourselves, 



IBS A Grammar of Logic, book hi. 

in disturbance to others, and sink deeper in falsehood and in error. 
After all the candor and patience we can exercise, the investigation- of 
knowledge is a painful and laborious task ; but our labor and time 
are totally thrown away, without a legitimate exertion of judgment. 
(See Art. 285.) 

Carol, [t is, therefore, a matter of the highest importance, in 
searching for truth, to know those impediments which obstruct the 
rectitude of our judgments, and to learn the rules we must observe, 
in order to conduct them with justice and expedition. This is a sub- 
ject deserving most serious attention, and must not be omitted in a 
system of logic. 

424. Erroneous judgments are denominated preju- 
dices, or rash judgments, that is to say, judgments passed 
before we have duly examined all the circumstances of the 
case on which we intend to decide. Prejudices generally 
relate to opinions ; prepossessions to attachments ; the for- 
mer refer chiefly to things, the latter to persons. (See Art. 
358.) 

Ohs. The term Prejudices, as here used, comprehends all the im 
pediments which interfere with our forming judgments of every sort, 
whether of things or of persons. (Corol. 2. p. 100.) 

425. Prejudices are arranged by Lord Bacon under four 
heads, which he calls, in the language of the schools, 1. 
Idola Tribus, the Prejudices of the species ; 2. Idol a 
Specus, the Prejudices of the individual ; 3. Idola Fori, the 
Prejudices of language ; and, 4. Idola Theatri, the Preju- 
dices of authority. 

Obs.' These terms, though scholastic, are extremeiy significant. It 
is seldom we find the language of the schoolmen so replete with mean- 
ing. Prejudices are not improperly distinguished by the title of 
Idola ; because they occupy the place of truth in the mind, in the 
same manner as the idol attracts, in the grove or the temple, the devo- 
tion which belongs to the Author of nature. 

I. Prejudices of the first Class, or Idola Tribus. 

426. The first class, the idola tribus, are such Prejudices 
as beset the whole human species ; so that every man is in 
danger from them. They arise, says Dr. Reid, from princi- 
ples of the human constitution, which are highly useful and 
necessary in our present state ; but, by their excess or de- 
fect, or wrong direction, may lead us into error. (See Art. 
237. and Illus.) 

Obs. As the active principles of the human frame are wisely con- 
trived, by the Author of our being, for the direction of our actions, 
and yet, without proper regulation and restraint, are apt to lead us 
wrong ', so it is also with regard to those parts of our constitution 



CHAP. VII. Of Prejudices, 189 

that have influence upon our opinions. Of this we may take the fol- 
lowing instances : — 

427. (i.) First, Men are prone to be led too much by au- 
thority in their opinions. (See Art. 235. and Illus.) 

Illus. 1. In the first part of life, we have no other guide ; and 
without a disposition to receive implicitly what we are taught, we 
should be incapable of instruction, and incapable of improvement. 
(See Illus. Art. 234.) 

2. When judgment is ripe, there are many things in which we are 
incompetent judges. In such matters, it is most reasonable to rely 
upon the judgment of those whom we believe to be competent and 
disinterested. The highest court of judicature in the nation relies 
upon the authority of lawyers and physicians in matters belonging to 
their respective professions. (See Art. 313. Illus.) 

3. Even in matters to the knowledge of which we have access, au- 
thority always will have, and ought to have, more or less weight, in 
proportion to the evidence on which our own judgment rests, and the 
opinion we have of the judgment and candor of those who differ from 
us, or agree with us. The modest man, conscious of his own fallibil- 
ity in judging, is in danger of giving too much to authority ; the arro- 
gant, of giving too little, 

4. In all matters belonging to his cognizance, every man must be 
determined by his own final judgment, otherwise he does not act the 
part of a rational being. Authority may add weight to one scale ; but 
the man holds the balance, and judges what weight he should allow 
to authority. 

Corol. As, therefore, our regard to authority may be either too 
great or too small, the bias of human nature seems to lean to the 
first of these extremes ; and it is perhaps good for men in general 
that it does so. 

Illus. 5. When this bias concurs with an indifference about truth, 
its operation will be the more powerful. The love of truth is natural 
to man, and strong in every well-disposed mind. But it may be over- 
borne by party-zeal, by vanity, by the desire of victory, or even by 
laziness. When it is superior to these, it is a manly virtue, resulting 
from the exercise of industry, fortitude, self-denial, candor, and open- 
ness to conviction. 

6. As there are persons in the world of so mean and abject a spirit, 
that they rather choose to owe their subsistence to the charity of 
others, than by industry to acquire some property of their own, so 
there are many more who may be called mere beggars witii regard to 
their opinions. Through laziness and indifference about truth, they 
leave to others the drudgery of digging for this commodity ; they can 
have enough at second hand to serve their occasions. Their concern 
is not to know what is true, but what is said and thought on such 
subjects ; and their understanding, like their clothes, is cut according 
to the fashion. (Illus. 1 and 2. Art. 87.) 

7. This distemper of the understanding has taken such deep root 
in a great part of mankind, that it can hardly be said that they use 
their own judgment in things that do not concern their temporal 
interest ; nor is it peculiar to the ignorant ; it infects all ranks. Wo 

15* 



190 A Grammar of JLogic. book hi 

may guess their oj Pinions when we know where they were born, of 
what parents, how educated, and what company they have kept. 
These circumstances determine their opinions in rehgion, in poHtics, 
and in philosophy. (See Jlrt. 233, and lllus. 1 and 2.) 

428. (ii. A second general prejudice arises from a dis- 
position to measure things less known, and less familiar, by 
those that are better known and more familiar. (See Art. 74.) 

Illus. 1. This is the foundation of analogical reasoning, to which we 
have a great proneness by nature ; and to it indeed we owe a great 
part of our knowledge. It would be absurd to lay aside this kind of 
reasoning altogether, and it is difficult to judge how far we may ven- 
ture upon it The bias of human nature is to judge from too slight 
analogies. (See Chapter IV. Book I.) 

2. The mistakes in common life, which are owing to this Preju- 
dice, are innumerable, and are evident to the slightest observation. 
Men judge of other men by themselves, or by the small circle of 
their acquaintance. The selfish man thinks all pretences to benev- 
olence and public spirit to be mere hypocrisy or self-deceit. The 
generous and open-hearted believe fair pretences too easily, and are 
apt to think men better than they realty are. The abandoned and 
profligate can hardly be persuaded that there is any such thing as 
real virtue in the world. The rustic forms his notions of the man- 
ners and characters of men from those of his country village, and is 
easily duped when he comes into a great city. (See Example 2. 
Jlrt. 239.) 

3. It is commonly taken for granted, that this narrow way of judg- 
ing of men is to be cured only by an extensive intercourse with men 
of different ranks, professions, and nations ; and that the man whose 
acquaintance has been confined within a narrow circle, must have 
many Prejudices and narrow notions, which a more extensive inter- 
course would have cured. (See Corol. Art. 239.) • 

429. (hi.) Men are often led into error by the love of 
simplicity, which disposes them to reduce things to few 
principles, and to conceive a greater simplicity in nature 
than really exists. 

Illus. To love simplicity, and to be pleased with it wherever we 
find it, is no imperfection. On the contrary, it is the result of good 
taste. We cannot but be pleased to observe, that all the changes of 
motion produced by the collision of bodies, hard, soft, or elastic, are 
reducible to three simple laws of motion, which the industry of philos- 
ophers has discovered. 

Example. When we consider what a prodigious variety of effects 
depend upon the law of gravitation ; how many phenomena in the 
earth, sea, and air, which, in all preceding ages, had tortured the 
wits of philosophers, and occasioned a thousand vain theories, are 
shown to be the necessary consequences of this one law ; how the 
whole system of sun, moon, planets primary and secondary, and 
comets, are kept in order by it, and their seeming irregularities 
liccounted for and reduced to accurate measures j the simplicity of 



CHAP. VII. Of Prejudices. 191 

the cause, and the beauty and variety of the effects, must give 
pleasure to every contemplative mind. By this noble discovery, 
we are taken, as it were, behind the scene in this great drama of 
nature, and made to behold some part of the art of the divine 
Author of this system, which, before this discovery, eye had not 
seen nor ear heard, nor had it entered into the heart of man to con- 
ceive. 

Corol. There is, without doubt, in every work of nature, all the 
beautiful simplicity that is consistent with the end for which it was 
made. But if we hope to discover how nature brings about its 
ends, merely from this principle, that it operates in the simplest 
and best way, we deceive ourselves, and forget that the wisdom of 
nature is more above the wisdom of man, than man's wisdom is above 
that of a child. (See Art. 69.) 

Illus. 2. It was believed, for many ages, that all the variety of 
concrete bodies we find on this globe is reducible to four elements, 
of which they are compounded, and into which they may be resolved. 
It was the simplicity of this theory, and not any evidence from fact, 
that made it to be so generally received ; for the more it is examined, 
we find the less ground to believe it. 

Example. The Pythagoreans and Platonists were carried farther 
by the same love of simplicity. Pythagoras, by his skill in mathe- 
matics, discovered, that there can be no more than five regular solid 
figures, terminated by plain surfaces which are all similar and equal ; 
to wit, the tetrahedron, the cube, the octahedron, the dodecahedron, 
and the eicosihedron. As nature works in the most simple and 
regular way, he thought that all the elementary bodies must have 
one or other of those regular figures ; and that the discovery of the 
properties and relations of the regular solids would be a key to open 
the mysteries of nature. 

Obs. 1. This notion of the Pythagoreans and Platonists has un- 
doubtedly great beauty and simplicity. Accordingly it prevailed, 
at least to the time of Euclid. He was a Platonic philosopher, and 
is said to have written all the books of his Elements, in order to 
discover the properties and relations of the five regular solids. 
This ancient tradition of the intention of Euclid in writing his Ele- 
ments, is countenanced by the work itself. For the last books of 
the Elements treat of the regular solids, and all the preceding are 
subservient to the last. 

2. So that this most ancient mathematical work, which, for its 
admirable composition, has served as a model to all succeeding 
writers in mathematics, seems, like the two first books of Newton's 
Principia, to have been intended by its author to exhibit the mathe- 
matical principles of natural philosophy. 

Illus. 3. It was long believed, that all the qualities of bodies, and 
all their medical virtues, were reducible to four ; moisture and 
dryness, heat and cold; and that there are only four "temperaments 
of the human body ; the sanguine, the melancholy, the bilious, and 
the phlegmatic. The chemical system of reducing all bodies to 
salt, sulphur and mercury, was of the same kind. For ages men 
divided all the objects of thought into ten categories, and all thai 
can be affirmed or denied of any thing, into five universajs or predi 
cables (Illy-. 2. Art. 156.) 



192 A Grammar of Logic. book iij. 

430. (iv.) One of the most copious sources of error in 
philosophy is the misapplication of invention (which Dr. 
Reid calls our noblest intellectual power) to purposes for 
which it is incompetent. 

Illus. 1. Of all the intellectual faculties, that of invention bears the 
highest price. It resembles most the power of creation, and is 
honored with that name. Yet this power, so highly valuable in 
itself, and so useful in the conduct of life, may be misapplied; and 
men of genius, in all ages, have been prone to apply it to purposes for 
which it is altogether incompetent. 

2. The works of men and the works of nature are not of the 
same order. The force of genius may enable a man perfectly to 
comprehend the former, and to see them to the bottom. What is 
contrived and executed by one man may be perfectly understood 
by another man. With great probability, he may from a part con- 
jecture the whole, or from the effects may conjecture the causes ; 
because they are effects of a wisdom not superior to his own. 

3. But the works of nature are contrived and executed by a wis- 
dom and power infinitely superior to that of man ; and when men 
attempt, by the force of genius, to discover the causes of the phe- 
nomena of nature, they have only the chance of going wrong more 
ingeniously. Their conjectures may appear very probable to beings 
no wiser than themselves ; but they have no chance to hit the truth. 
They are like the conjectures of a child, as to how a &hip of war is 
built, and how it is managed at sea. (Illus. 1. .^rt. 71.) 

4. The slow and patient method of induction, the only way to 
attain any knowledge of nature's work, leaves little room for the 
favorite talent of invention. In the humble method of information 
from the great volume of Nature we must receive all our knowledge 
of herself. To a man of genius, self-denial is a difficult lesson in phi- 
losophy as well as in religion. To bring his fine imaginations and 
most ingenious conjectures to the fiery trial of experiment and in- 
duction, by which the greater part, if not the whole, will be found 
to be dross, is a humiliating task. This is to condemn him to dig in 
a mine, when he would fly with the wings of an eagle. 

5. In all the fine arts, whose end is to please, genius is deservedly 
supreme. In the conduct of human affairs, it often does wonders; 
but in all inquiries into the constitution of nature, it must act a subor- 
dinate part, ill-suited to the superiority it boasts. It may combine, 
but it must not fabricate. It may collect evidence, but must not 
supply the want of it by conjecture. It may display its powers by- 
putting nature to the question in well-contrived experiments, but it 
must add nothing to her answers. 

431. (v.) In avoiding one extreme, men are very apt to 
rush into the opposite. 

Elus. 1. Thus, in rude ages, men accustomed to search for natural 
causes, ascribe every uncommon appearance to the immediate inter- 
position of invisible beings ; but when philosophy has discovered 
natural causes of many events, which, in the days of ignorance, 
were ascribed to the immediate operation of gods or demons, thet 



CHAP. VTt. Of Prejudices, 193 

are apt to think, that all the phenomena of nature may be account- 
ed for in the same way. and that there is no need of an invisible 
Maker and Governor of the world. 

2. Rude men are at first disposed to ascribe intelligence and 
active power to every thing they see move or undergo any change. 
Whenever savages see motion which they cannot account for, there 
they suppose a soul. When they come to be convinced of the folly 
of this extreme, they are apt to run into the opposite, and to think 
that every thing moves only as it is moved, and acts as it is act- 
ed upon. 

Corol. Thus, from the extreme of superstition, the transition is 
easy to that of atheism ; and from the extreme of ascribing activity 
to every part of nature, to that of excluding it altogether, and 
making even the determinations of intelligent beings the links of 
one fatal chain, or the wheels of one great machine. 

432. (vi.) Men's judgments are often perverted by their 
affections and passions. This is so commonly observed, 
and so universally acknow^ledged, that it needs neither 
proof nor illustration. 

II. Prejudices of the second Class, or Idola Specus. 

433. The Prejudices of the second class, or the idola 
specus, have their origin in something peculiar to the indi- 
vidual. 

Obs. As in a cave objects vary in their appearance according to 
the form of the cave, and the manner in which it receives the light, 
Lord Bacon conceives the mind of every man to resemble a cave, 
which has its particular form, and its particular manner of being 
enlightened ; and, from these circumstances, often gives false colors 
and a delusive appearance to objects seen in it. 

lllus. 1. For this reason, he gives the name of idola specus to those 
prejudices which arise from the particular way in which a man has 
been trained, from his being addicted to some particular profession, 
or from something particular in the turn of his mind. 

2. A man whose thoughts have been confined to a certain track 
by his profession or manner of life, is very apt to judge wrong when 
he ventures out of that track. He is apt to draw every thing with- 
in the sphere of his profession, and by its maxims to judge of things 
that have no relation to it. 

Example 1. The mere mathematician is apt to apply measure and 
calculation to things which do not admit of it. Direct and inverse 
ratios have been applied by an ingenious author to measure human 
affections, and the moral worth of actions. An eminent mathema- 
tician, says Dr. Raid, attempted to ascertain, by calculation, the 
ratio in which the evidence of facts must decrease in the course of 
time, and fixed the period when the evidence of the facts on which 
Christianity is founded shall become evanescent, and when, in con- 
sequence, no faith shall be found on the earth. And the same 
ingenious author adds : '• I have seen a philosophical dissertation, 
published by a very good mathematician, wherein, in opposition to 



194 A Grammar of Logic, feooK iii. 

the ancient division of things into ten categories, he maintains that 
there are no more, and can be no more, than two categories, to wit, 
data and qucBsita." 

2. The ancient chemists were wont to explain all the mysteries of 
nature, and even of religion, by salt, sulphur, and mercury. 

3. Mr. Locke mentions an eminent musician, who believed that 
God created the world in six days, and rested the seventh, becaust^ 
there are but seven notes in music. Dr. Reid knew one of that pro- 
fession, who thought that there could be only three parts in harm*^ 
ny, to wit, bass, tenor, and treble ; because there are but three 
persons in the Trinity. 

4. The learned and ingenious Dr. Henry More, having very elabo- 
rately and methodically compiled his Enchiridium. Metaphysicum, and 
Enchiridium Ethicum, found all the divisions and subdivisions of 
both to be allegorically taught in the first chapter of Genesis. 

CoroL Thus, even very ingenious men are i£pt to make a ridiculous 
figure, by drawing into the track, in which their thoughts have long 
run, things altogether foreign to it. 

Illus. 3. Different persons, either from temper or from education, 
have different tendencies of understanding, which, by their excess, 
are unfavorable to sound judgment. 

Example 5. Some have an undue admiration of antiquity and con- 
tempt of whatever is modern ; others go as far into the contrary 
extreme. It may be judged, that the former are persons who value 
themselves upon their acquaintance with ancient authors, and the 
latter such as have little knowledge of this kind. 

6. Some are afraid to venture a step out of the beaten track, and 
think it safest to go with the multitude ; others are fond of singulari- 
ties, and of every thing that has the air of paradox. 

7. Some are desultory and changeable in their opinions ; others 
unduly tenacious. Most men have a predilection for the tenets of 
their sect or party, and still more for their own inventions. 

III. Prejudices of the third Class ^ or Idola Fori. 

434. The idola fori are the fallacies arising from the 
imperfections and the abuse of language, which is an in- 
strument of thought as well as of the communication of our 
thoughts. 

Illus. 1. Whether it be the effect of constitution or of habit, it is 
perhaps difficult to determine ; but, from one or both of these causes, 
it happens, that no man can pursue a train of thought or reasoning 
without the use of language. {Jirt. 90.) Words are the signs of our 
thoughts ; and the sign is so associated with the thing signified, that 
the last can hardly present itself to the imagination, without drawing 
the other along with it. 

Example. A man who would compose in any language, must 
think in that language. If he thinks in one language what he 
would express in another, he thereby doubles his labor, and, after 
all, his expressions will have more the air of a translation than of 
original composition. 



CiiAP. VII. Of Prejudices. 195 

Corol. 1 . This shows, that our thoughts take their color, in some 
degree, from the language we use ; and that, although languages ought 
always to be subservient to thought, yet thought must be sometimes, 
and in some degree, subservient to language. 

lllus. 2. As a servant, that is extremely useful and necessary to his 
master, by degrees acquires an authority over him, so that the master 
must often yield to the servant, such is the case with regard to lan- 
guage. Its intention is to be a servant to the understanding ; but it is 
so useful and so necessary, that we cannot avoid being sometimes led 
by it when it ought to follow. We cannot shake off this impediment ) 
we must drag it along with us ; and therefore must direct our course, 
and regulate our pace, as it permits. 

3. Language must have many imperfections when applied to philos- 
ophy, because it was not made for that use. In the early periods of 
society, rude and ignorant men use certain forms of speech, to express 
their wants, their desires, and their transactions with one another. 
Their language can reach no farther than their speculations and no- 
tions ; and if their notions be vague and ill defined, the words by 
which they express them must be so likewise. 

Coro' . 2. There is reason to hope, that the languages used by 
philosophers may be gradually improved in copiousness and in dis- 
tinctness; and that improvements in knowledge and in language may 
go hand in hand, and facilitate each other. But I fear the imperfec- 
tions of language can never be perfectly remedied while our knowl- 
edge is imperfect. 

3. However this may be, it is evident that the imperfections of lan- 
guage, and much more the abuse of it., are the occasion of many 
errors ; and that in many disputes which have engaged learned men, 
the difference has been partly, and in some wholly, about »the meaning 
of words. 

Ohs. Mr. Locke found it necessary to employ a fourth part of his 
Essay on Human Understanding about words ; their various kinds ; 
their imperfection and abuse, and the remedies of both ; and has 
made many observations upon these subjects, well worthy of the 
student's attentive perusal. 

435. Barron observes, most justly, that infinite almost is 
the variety of the external appearance of the human race, 
and no less various, perhaps, are the constitutions of the 
minds of men. For this reason, unanimity is not to be 
looked for, even concerning business, and the common in- 
tercourse of life, far less concerning speculative tenets of 
difficult conception, probably in some cases of exceptiona- 
ble evidence. 

Il'us. 1. If judgments are formed by candid men on such topics, 
they will be different, according to the different aspects in which the 
objects appear to their respective apprehensions. No inconvenience 
ensues from these different judgments, either in affairs, or in specula- 
tion, if men are animated by charity, and proper respect for the opin- 
ions of their neighbors, as well as for their own. They add variety 
to conversation and to action, correspondent to the difffrence which 



196 A Grammar of Logic, book iJi. 

rwiture has established in the individuals of the species. They in- 
spire patience and toleration, which afford exercise for several of the 
most amiable and social virtues. 

CoroL 1. If any nation, then, or large society of men, pretend to 
be unanimous about tenets, speculative in their nature, and remote 
from vulgar comprehension, those of religion itself not excepted, the 
whole almost of the judgments from which that unanimity springs, 
will be indigested, if not inadequate ; that is, they will be the judg- 
ments of teachers or leaders, adopted without examination. The 
greater part of the followers are incapable of forming opinions for 
themselves, on account either of the imbecility of their faculties, or 
the abstract nature of the topics ; and of course their assent, founded 
on pretended judgment, is no better than acquiescence in the judg- 
ments of those they revere, concerning subjects which they do not 
fully understand. 

T/lus. 2. But though systems of established tenets, whether political, 
philosophical or religious, are certain sources of many imperfect judg- 
ments, and should be embraced with caution, yet in some cases, 
particularly those of religion, they are perhaps necessary, if not 
altogether harmless. They are at least negatively good ; and if 
they do not keep men right, they often prevent their going farther 
wrong. The body of the people are unqualified to judge concern- 
ing the theoretical part of religion, and must be led b}? the opin- 
ions of men they account wiser than themselves. If they are not 
guided by wise and good men, interested and designing men will 
take the direction of them. If decency and sobriety are not honor- 
ed with the superintendence of their sentiments, extravagance, and 
violence, and enthusiasm, will assume that command. Nobody can 
doubt of the propriety of giving the preference to the former 
guides ; nobody can hesitate that the peace and happiness of so- 
ciety require this preference to be maintained by every reasonable 
expedient. 

Corol. 2. An established system of religious faith, then, is certain- 
ly the combined opinion of the men best qualified to judge, held forth 
in opposition to the private opinions of all weak, or wild, or wicked 
men. with the laudable view of keeping the people as near the truth 
as possible, and of preventing controversies, which are often more 
pernicious than even heresies, to the comfort, to the improvement, and 
to the virtue of society. 

436. Education, the professed purpose of which is to lead 
us to the temple of truth by the easiest and shortest road, 
will not readily be supposed to retard or embarrass our prog- 
ress in that course in which it pretends to be a guide. It 
is, however, certain, that no station which we can occupy, 
no discipline that we can undergo, is more frequently pro- 
lific of partial judgments. 

Obs. 1. In all periods of society, the greater part of teachers have 
been more concerned to inculcate the philosophy of their sect, or 
the religion of their church, than the pure doctrines of truth; and 
the inexperience of youth, with the respect they naturally entertain 



CHAP. VII. Of Prejudices, 197 

for advanced years and superior wisdom, cannot often fail to render 
such education a hot-bed of errors and prejudices. History and 
experience teem with examples of the fertil-ity of this soil, and teach, 
in the strongest language, the necessity of the most assiduous at- 
tention, to prevent or eradicate the plentiful crop of noxious plants 
with which it is in hazard of being overrun. 

2. The fundamental error, perhaps, of education, has consisted in 
addressing truth, whether prudential, moral, or philosophical, to the 
memory rather than to the understanding. It is commonly supposed, 
if a great deal of information be lodged in the mind, and committed 
to the custody of faithful recollection, that it will prove a plentiful 
and useful magazine, from which the pupil may draw with facility 
and advantage every supply he may need in the conduct of life. But 
it is unfortunately forgotten, that accumulation of truth is only half 
the business of instruction, and is not even the more important half. 
The more important part is, to acquire the habit of employing to some 
good purpose the acquisitions of memory, by the exercise of the un- 
derstanding about them ; and, till this habit be acquired, these acqui- 
sitions will not be found of very great use. 

ILlus. 1. With regard to prudential truth, or the conduct of a 
pupil respecting his instructors, his parents, his friends, his equals, 
his attachments and amusements, the great fundamental rule seems 
to be, that good behavior is both his duty and his interest, and that 
upon his observation of it, his treatment and gratifications will 
depend. If the uniform and discreet conduct of the teacher, or the 
parent, makes him consider what this behavior is, and forces him 
to reason about the practice of it, he will be happy and satisfied, he 
will be attentive and civil to others, and he will be prepared to 
judge for himself in the conduct of life, when he shall be obliged to 
think and act without the direction of his early guides. But if he 
have no rule of conduct, but the dictates of every sudden whim 
which may arise in his own fantastic imagination, or which the oc- 
casional indulgence or severity of an indiscreet superintendent may 
suggest, his conduct will be the result of foolish attachments or 
aversions, of caprice, or of passion. His wants will be multiplied 
bej^ond the bounds of nature, and the circumstances of his situation ; 
he will be miserable to himself, and disgusting to others. Advice 
and instruction will have with him ho useful influence. His subjec- 
tion to authority will be his utter aversion, because it interferes 
with his gratifications. His application to study will be disagree- 
able, because he has no conception of the utility of knowledge. 
From such a train of unfortunate prejudices, what other conduct 
can ensue, than that which we often survey ? — namely, a. headlong 
career of the most unlimited gratification, as soon as he is emanci- 
pated from that mortifying restraint from which he has so long and so 
ardently wished to disengage himself; and an insurmountable aver- 
sion to every path of inquiry and truth, into which it had been the 
purpose of education to lead him. 

2. The history of Great Britain presents two striking examples of 
the pernicious effects of the prejudices of education, one political, 
and the other religious. Charles the First lost his life and his crown 
by the arbitrary maxims of government he had received from his 
ancestors. James the Second lost his crown by the Popish edu- 

16 



198 A frrammar of Logic. book in 

cation he had received in France. Though Charles the First is com- 
monly called a martyr to the doctrine and worship of the Church of 
England, and is accounted by the vulgar to have sacrificed his life 
in defending her against the bigotry and violence of sectaries , whose 
hatred to her and him was insatiable, yet it is well known, that his 
attachment to that church was neither the first nor the chief cause 
of the discontents which generated and prolonged the civil war. 
Religious jealousies and fears were then employed, as they have 
often been, to rouse, and irritate, and alienate the people. But the 
encroachments on property contrary to law, and the levying of 
money without consent of Parliament, alarmed all wise men, and 
excited that tremendous spirit of resistance, which terminated in the 
lamentable fate of the king, and the destruction of the constitution,— 
evils that seem to have exceeded in magnitude every wish or con- 
ception of the patriots who first opposed the arbitrary measures of 
the crown. That Charles knew the constitution reprobated the 
levying of money by his own authority, we have no reason to doubt ; 
but he had been fatally educated in principles which suggested, that 
cases of necessity, or the v^^ants of princes, were superior to the 
constitution or the laws 5 and that if Parliament refused to grant 
what supplies he thought necessary, a case of necessity took place, 
and he was at liberty to exert his sovereign power to provide for the 
salvation of the state. 

3. The education of James the Second in France, and his attach- 
ment to the Church of Rome, were the springs of the Revolution, 
and of the ejection of the family of Stuart from the throne of their 
ancestors. Nothing perhaps but the bigotry of that prince could 
have saved the liberties of this country from extinction. Could he 
have relinquished his attachment to the Romish Church, could he 
have suspended or moderated that attachment, he might have 
reigned without a parliament, and trampled on the laws and re- 
ligion of his subjects. His finances, by economy and good manage- 
ment, were in perfect order, and nearly adequate to the annual 
expenses of government. The calamities and disasters of the late 
civil wars were fresh in the memories of men, and all ranks were 
reluctant to renew them. The enthusiastic spirit which had in- 
flamed the body of the nation . against his father, had now nearly 
spent its force, and nothing seemed wanting to success, but to allow 
the minds of men to cool, and to habituate them to the slavery that 
was preparing for them. The blind zeal, however, of the king, and 
his intemperate attachment to his religion, for the happiness of this 
land of liberty, hastened every event to a crisis. They so com- 
pletely disgusted friends and enemies, that the people, with the 
most unprecedented unanimity, pushed from a throne, without vio- 
lence or convulsion, a monarch and a family who would have 
sacrificed the happiness and peace of a great nation to particular 
religious tenets. 

IV. The Prejudices of the fourth Class, or Idola Theatri. 

437. The fourth class of Prejudices are the idola theatri, 
by which are meant Prejudices arising from the systems ot 



CHAP. VII. Of Prejudices. 199 

sects in which we have been trained, or which we have 
adopted. 

lllus. 1. A false system once fixed in the mind, becomes, as i\ 
were, the medium through which we see objects : they receive a 
tincture from it, and appear in another color than when seen by a 
pure light. 

Example 1. Upon the same subject, a Platonist, a Peripatetic, and 
a 1 Epicurean, will think differently, not only in matters connected 
with his peculiar tenets, but even in things remote from them. 

ILlus. 2. As there are certain temperaments of the body that 
dispose a man more to one class of diseases than to another ; and, 
on the other hand, diseases of that kind, when they happen by 
accident, are apt to induce the temperament that is suited to them ; 
there is something analogous to this in the diseases of the under- 
standing. 

Example 2. A certain complexion of understanding may dispose 
a man to one system of opinions more than to another ; and, on the 
other hand, a system of opinions, fixed in the mind by education or 
otherwise, gives that complexion to the understanding which is 
suited to them. 

lllus. 3. Party spirit induces us to think, that all our friends are 
men of discernment, of integrity, of generosity, of liberal mind's, of 
impartial views, and of great virtues. The case of our antagonists, 
their motives, qualities, and conduct, are directly the reverse. Their 
designs are the result of imprudence, folly, or iniquity. Weakness, 
wickedness, or selfishness, mark all their plans, and disfigure all 
their operations. They inherit no spark of discretion, enterprise, 
or public spirit. Truth is thus suppressed or misrepresented; and 
in all the subjects of contest, there will not be found, on either side, 
a single sound or impartial judgment. 

4. Religious party-spirit, in former ages, chiefly misled and agi- 
tated the minds of men. Happily for the honor and peace of the 
present age, the influence of this most malignant disposition is now 
nearly extinguished. The progress of truth and knowledge has not 
been a little extended and accelerated by this fortunate event. 

5. Political party-spirit, however, still keeps strong hold of the 
minds of men; and the misrepresentations and falsehoods with 
which it corrupts their hearts, and misleads their judgments, are 
sufficiently discernible. Did not attachment to party blind the un- 
derstanding, and obliterate the feelings of modesty and candor, men 
would be ashamed of the contempt or neglect with which they re- 
ceive the plainest truths. On some occasions, indeed, this spirit 
appears to prompt such partiality, as not only despises the dictates 
of truth and reason, but disregards even the most important interests 
of society ; provided it may accomplish its favorite objects of am- 
bition. It is this species of prejudice, against which, in this island, 
it is particularly necessary to fortify the mind, because the tempta- 
tions to indulge it are very strong, while its effects are most detri- 
mental to public prosperity and peace. 

6. The prejudices of fashion seduce and pervert all mankind. 
Every thing experiences the influence of fashion. All ranks are 
subjected to its power. Manners, arts, language, dress, amusements, 
studies, science, wen laws and religion, are not exempted from il* 



. 200 A Grammar of Logic. book tii. 

sway. Fashion is, on many occasions, the opinion of the majority 
of society, or of the more illustrious part of it , and so ductile are 
the minds of many men, that they consider its dictates as of superior 
authority to those of reason itself (See lilus. Art. 240.) Of all our 
prejudices, however, those supported by fashion are, perhaps, the 
most justifiable ; at least they are often the most difficult to surmount. 
In all matters of indifference, it would seem, we should submit to 
fashion ; and as we would not choose to follow any authority, in 
judging of right and wrong, so it appears unreasonable to be singular 
in cases where neither is concerned. 

Corol. The prejudices of fashion are nearly allied to those of au- 
thority. They differ only in the extent of the source from which 
they are derived. Under the former, we are guided by the practice 
or opinion of the great body of the people ; under the latter, we fol- 
low the opinions and example of eminent individuals. Authority is 
most detrimental to all inquiries after truth, and has perhaps ob- 
structed more the progress of knowledge, than all other causes con- 
joined. It has infested and corrupted the investigations of philos- 
ophy in all ages. Even the enlightened spirit of the present age, is 
not altogether delivered from its dominion. 

V. Rules to prevent Prejudices, and direct our Judgments. 

438. Ride 1. Beware of precipitation, and never decide 
concerning the truth or falsehood of any proposition, till you 
have ascertained, \st. Whether the words accurately ex- 
press the ideas, which the proposition would convey to your 
mind; '^dly. Whether you have distinct conceptions of 
those ideas; "^dly. Whether your mind is divested of preju- 
dices ; and, Atldy. Whether you have fully canvassed the 
evidence. 

Ohs. All this precaution may not be necessary to prevent mis- 
take in every judgment we form. For in all sciences, arts, and 
affairs, we pass many judgments without much attention or pre- 
meditation, because the agreement or disagreement of the ideas 
compared is obvious on the slightest inspection. But when the 
pursuit of truth solicits us into new, and perhaps obscure, paths of 
inquiry ; when we reach judgments which lead to inferences ex- 
traordinary and alarming ; or when our decisions differ from those 
of men eminent for capo-city and discernment, or are likely to involve 
us in controversy ) we should reiterate, with patient attention, every 
precaution. 

lllus. 1. Such a practice is suitable to, and is demanded by, the 
character of a candid inquirer. It may, perhaps, retard our progress, 
but it will cause us to march on surer ground. It will habituate our 
minds to accuracy, and will give us confidence in their operations. 
It will save the irksome sensation which results from the detection 
of precipitation and mistake ; and it may prevent much trouble, by 
excluding errors from theories, which, if carelessly or rashly over- 
looked in their principles, may lay in ruins the labors of many 
painful hours 



CHAP. VII. Of Prejudices. 201 

Example. The most patient investigators have always been the 
most successful inquirers, and the most prudent and fortunate men 
have generally been most remarkable for the candor and the cool- 
ness of their under ^landings. Two of the greatest philosophers the 
world ever saw, Lord Bacon and Sir Isaac Newton, are in nothing 
so much superior to all other philosophers, as in the deliberation 
and patience with which they proceeded in their researches. No 
confidence, no presumption, no vain censure of the precipitancy of 
former inquirers, no zeal for party, no partiality to system or au- 
thority, ever mislead their minds, or disgrace their investigations. 
They seek truth alone, and they search for her with the caution of 
men conscious of her importance, and of the difficulty of finding her. 
They embrace her with cordiality, wherever they meet her, but they 
will not adopt speculation for fact, nor be satisfied with the semblance 
in place of the reality. 

nius. 2, Prudent judgment in business chiefly distinguishes the 
wise man from the fool. The fool frequently possesses sensibility, 
vivacity, recollection, and information. He is often in these articles 
superior to the man of wisdom and discretion ; but he cannot, or 
will not, make a proper use of the materials he has provided. He 
fancies ideas to agree, which do not agree. He judges precipitately 
and erroneously. His conduct is directed by his judgments. His 
opinions, accordingly, expose him to ridicule and contempt, and his 
actions to reproach and misfortune. 

3. The essence of wisdom, on the other hand, consists in the 
passing of just judgments on the men, and the things, about which, 
in the affairs of life, we are called to decide. It is the offspring or 
companion of discernment, and discernment is nothing more than 
that prudent examination, previous to judgment, which leads us to 
decide according to truth. The w^ise man, it is said, sees farther 
into futurity than other men, or excels in the faculty of anticipa- 
tion; but this superiority is an evidence only of the accuracy of his 
judgment relative to things past. He supposes that future events, 
in similar circumstances, will resemble the past. His conceptions of 
the past are accurate, and he can scarcely err in his. opinions of the 
future. 

439. Rule 2. If, after employing every precaution, you 
still find information incomplete, or ideas not sufficiently 
clear, suspend judgment till farther investigation or greater 
experience shall qualify you to decide. 

Obs. This rule may be supposed to be comprehended under the 
preceding; because, if we never judge with precipitation, we must, 
eventually, suspend that operation, whenever the evidence is not 
satisfactory. But the prudent and rational conduct which this rule 
inculcates, is so momentous, both in science and in business, that it 
appeared to merit a separate enunciation and illustration. 

IIlus. 1. A degree of indecision, which presupposes a doubt of 
the truth of every proposition we have not examined, is requisite to 
every candid inquirer. But hesitation and suspense are uneasy 
feelings to many minds, that are impatient to reach a determination 
In many instances, if we proceed with propriety, we must observe 

16* 



202 A Grammar of Logic, book hi. 

the necessity o suspense of judgment, because our inquiries termi- 
nate in subjects beyond our comprehension. Barron considers the 
cases to which this rule especially applies, to be those in which 
judgment comes within our comprehension ; but we hesitate, either 
because ideas are not sufficiently distinct, or because we have not 
discovered the intermediate steps which show their relation. In 
such cases, a candid inquirer must suspend judgment, because he 
can do nothing else. Should he go on, it is perfect accident if he 
reach a just determination. 

2. When the mind is embarrassed and perplexed, it is often proper 
to relinquish the subject of inquiry for some time ; and to resume 
it, after an interval of other employment. Its faculties return to 
the examination with new vigor, more experience, quicker discern- 
ment, and frequently with success. But the more common method 
is, to pore upon the topic which engages attention ; and instead of 
seeking for intermediate ideas, if it be a subject of argument, or 
farther information, if it be a matter of fact, the inquirer retires 
to his closet, and forms theories which have no foundation either in 
reason or in truth. This spirit is fortunately banished, in a great 
measure, from the regions of philosophy, but it still remains in 
politics and in business. 

Example. Men who cannot conduct their own private affairs, are 
usually expert theoretical politicians. The empiric who cannot find 
a panacea for his own disease, sets about curing the maladies of the 
state. A theoretical politician is exceedingly wise in conversation, 
but his speculations are rarely verified by experience. He pro- 
ceeds on fallacious principles. He reasons on the supposition, that 
the motives and conduct of men are v/hat they should be; or that 
men will act from steady principles of justice or interest. But the 
far greater part of their actions are the result of unaccountable at- 
tachment or passion, of fancy, feeling, whim, caprice. These can 
make no part of any theory, because they transcend all rules of cal- 
culation, and falsify every conclusion founded on reason and com- 
mon sense. 

Corol. 1. A man, therefore, who wishes to gain real influence in 
the world, will never rest resolutions on speculation. He will mix 
with mankind, and accommodate his opinions to characters and cir- 
cumstances; and if these lead not to decision, he will patiently 
suspend judgment, and remain inactive ; or he will act so ambigu- 
ously, that he may avail himself of better information when it shall 
occur. 

2. Suspense of judgment, at least suspense in uttering judg- 
ments, if they contain any thing harsh, disagreeable, unpleasant, or 
even unpolite, is particularly necessary in all good company, and 
among all men of knowledge. Without this exercise of civility, 
we cannot expect to be favored with the communications of supe- 
rior information. We cannot render ourselves acceptable to those 
from whom we may derive the most essential benefits. We shall 
discompose and embarrass delicate society ; we shall be exposed to 
critical reprehension, or involved in controversy, the bane of all 
good intercourse, and insuperable impediments in the acquisition 
of truth. 

lllus. 3. Modesty in judgment is peculiarly graceftil anxl promis- 
ing in young inquirers. It is always interpreted in the most favor- 



CHAP. VII. Of Prejudices. 203 

able sense ; as a mark of ingenuousness, and a consciousness of the 
difficulty of attaining useful knowledge ; dispositions which power- 
fully solicit liberal and enlightened minds to impart important aid. 
On the other hand, petulancje, forwardness, and presumption, sub- 
ject young inquirers to every disadvantage, and to many mortifica- 
tions. They alarm men of superior parts and improvement, and 
render them averse to intimacy with persons from whom nothing is to 
be expected but irritation or disgust. They bring into suspicion the 
soundness of their understandings ; so that these can hardly obtain 
the reputation of just judgment even when it is deserved. 

440. Rule 3. Always remain satisfied with the evidence 
which the nature of a proposition admits; because, To de- 
cide without evidence, is weakness and absurdity — To be 
satisfied with no evidence, is skepticism — To demand the 
same kind or degree of evidence for every proposition, is un- 
natural and unreasonable. 

Illus. 1. The propositions of science, of arts, and of business, are 
supported by different kinds of evidence. No candid reasoner will 
demand the same species of evidence for them all. He is entitled to 
no other than the nature of each affords. Few subjects admit that 
complete conviction which excludes the possibility of doubt. The 
far greater part present only higher or lower degrees of probability. 
Though, in the sciences of quantity, the mind proceeds on the firm 
ground of demonstration, it would be absurd to expect equal satis- 
faction in morals, politics, or natural history, because these sciences 
are incapable of such evidence. 

2. Moral and political propositions are supported by evidence de- 
duced from the ^ human constitution, the order of nature, the happi- 
ness of individuals, and of communities, which is far from being so 
conclusive and direct, as to exclude hesitation, or even difference of 
opinion : yet these propositions involve truths very important to 
mankind. The rewards or punishments, assigned by their own 
minds, by the opinion of their fellow-creatures, and by the laws of 
society, depend upon them. 

Example. In natural history, which furnishes an account of ani- 
mals, vegetables, and minerals; in geography, which supplies in- 
struction concerning the surface of the earth, what parts are covered 
with land or water, where hills, valleys, capes, cities, are situated, 
where currents run, and particular winds blow; in civil history, 
which recounts the transactions, opinions, and manners of nations 
in former times ; in the administration of justice and civil govern- 
ment, which applies the laws of the community to the actions of 
individuals, in order to protect the lives and property of the inno- 
cent, and to punish the guilty ; in the relations we daily receive 
from foreign countries concerning the public events of nations, or 
the industry, customs, and sentiments of individuals; — in all these 
cases, we must depend upon the evidence of testimony ; and if the 
information be not in its nature incredible, and we have no reason 
to question the veracity of the relater, we ought to be satisfied with 
that evidence. 

rilus. 3. Testimony is perhaps among ihe least siitisfactory chan- 
nels by which truth is conveyed to the mind. It is less satisfictorv 



204 A Grammar of Logic. book hi 

than those of intuition and reasoning, at least in the sciences of 
quantity. It is also inferior to those of consciousness and sensation; 
but it isj notwithstanding, of high importance to the comfort, peace, 
and happiness of society. No inconvenience results from following 
it with discretion. Were it rejected, every disorder and danger 
would ensue. Man is made to be satisfied w^ith it. His situation 
often admits nothing more convincing. 

Obs. It was chiefly to vindicate the credibility of this species of 
evidence, to which inquirers sometimes will not allow the influence 
it deserves, that we advanced the rule under consideration; and it 
may not be improper to sketch the limits within which this evi- 
dence appears to be unexceptionable. 

441. The first thing to be considered, then, is the nature 
of the relation which solicits our belief; because, if it be in- 
credible, we need not go farther ; we may reject the testi- 
mony without examination, because we are more certain 
that what is incredible cannot be true, than we can be cer- 
tain of the truth of any testimony. 

lllus. A relation is incredible two ways, — either by containing an 
action in itself impracticable, or by containing circumstances con- 
tradictory to one another. 

1. If, for instance, we were told, that an ordinary man bore a 
mountain on his back from Italy to France ; or that there are men 
in the world who believe two and three make six; we would re- 
ject such relations as unworthy of the least credit, because they 
contain actions and opinions which contradict all our conceptions 
and experience of human powers and faculties. 

II. If, again, a relation represent the performer of an action in 
different places at the same time, we refuse credif, because it in- 
volves a contradiction, and supposes the coexistence of things 
which we know to be impossible. But if the action be practicable, 
if the agent be adequate to the performance, and if the account be 
intelligible and consistent, the next step is to examine the nature 
of the testimony; and if that also be unexceptionable, the mind is 
prepared to believe, and it will be impatient if not permitted to be- 
stow assent. 

442. The circumstances of inquiry relative to the credi- 
bility of the testimony, are, 1st. Whether the relater was 
fully informed of the nature and particulars of the action ; 
and, 2dl^. Whether he could be seduced by any temptation 
to misrepresent them. 

lllus. 1. The article of full information may be subdivided into 
several other inquiries; whether the action was an object of the 
senses of the relater ; whether he had full time to examine it, and 
possessed the perfect use of his faculties at the time of examina- 
tion ; whether he examined the same action, or similar actions, at 
different times, and always formed similar judgments; and, final- 
ly, whether his account is supported, at least not contradicted, by 
other accounts of credit. 

2. With regard to the character of the relater, we have reason t« 



CHAP VII. Of Prejudices. 205 

rely on his veracity, if we have no cause to doubt it; and if, at the 
same time, marks of sincerity, attention, or discernment appear, we 
cannot demand better foundation for assent. If an historian be ex- 
posed to no temptation to falsify or misrepresent, we suppose that 
he relates the truth; because it is much more easy to relate truth 
than to relate falsehood. Truth requires no anxious caution to pre- 
serve consistency, no struggle to repress the remonstrances of con- 
science, which even the most abandoned men cannot altogether 
silence. It follows the natural and consistent train of causes and 
effects. It presents a credibility and authority which command con- 
viction. 

3. But if, besides a general attachment to truth, we discover in 
an historian other symptoms of integrity, such as relating truth 
when it was his interest to conceal or misrepresent it ; when it might 
hurt friends, gratify enemies, or expose himself to danger from the 
resentment of those whom it might offend ; we have the best rea- 
son to credit his testimony ; because he discovers not only great 
attachment to truth, but the strongest aversion to falsehood, and 
evinces, that the temptations which induce men of little virtue to 
disguise truth, and those of no virtue to suppress it, do not affect 
him. He is at least sincere, and his testiixiony must be believed, 
unless it can be proved that he was iiiisinformed or had been mis- 
taken. 

4. If a relation be consistent, the only ground for charging its 
author with mistake or misinformation, is its contradiction of other 
accounts of credit, or its containing transactions of which we can 
explain neither the motives nor the manner. If two historians con- 
tradict one another, which seldom happens, unless in cases of the most 
violent prevalence of party-spirit, the evidence of both will be de- 
stroyed, or the small portion of credit that remains will operate in fa- 
vor of the more respectable author. If one author omit what is rela- 
ted by another, the omission may excite suspicion, but forms no direct 
argument against the credibility ) because many circumstances, un- 
known to us, might occasion the oversight of which we complain. 

5. Neither is the containing of transactions of which we cannot 
explain the motives or the manner, a good argument against the au- 
thenticity of a narrative ; because the deficiency may be chargeable 
on the hearer or the reader, not on the relater. Men of all ages 
measure the motives, opinions, and actions of others, however dif- 
ferent from themselves in constitution, or dissimilar in situation, by 
their own ; and we need not be told, that nothing can be more fal- 
lacious than such a standard. A remarkable passage of history may 
be produced to illustrate this observation. 

Example. Herodotus, in travelling to collect materials for his his- 
tory of Greece, received intelligence that some Phoenician seamen 
had embarked on the Red Sea, sailed round the south coast of Africa, 
and returned home by the Columns of Hercules, or the Straits of 
Gibraltar; in which voyage, they must have circumnavigated the 
Cape of Good Hope, commonly accounted one of tb\j most brilliant 
discoveries of modern enterprise. The historian subjoins his own 
opinion; that the incident was incredible, because the voyagers re- 
ported, that in some part of their navigations, they had beheld the 
ecliptic, or the line of motion of the sun, situated to the north of 
the zenith of their course. The historian, however, judged- by a 



206 A Grammar of Logic. book hi- 

false standard ; he condemned as incredible what he did not under- 
stand ; because it was unknown, perhaps, in his time, that the appear- 
ance specified actually takes place, in the navigation he had related. 
He reprobates the account for a circumstance which is the most 
plausible characteristic of its authenticity ; for it could hardly be sup- 
posed to have been conjectured unless it had been seen. 

Conclusion. We have now offered every rule and observation, 
which appeared of importance to be attended to in forming our judg- 
ments in science, arts, and business — we have unfolded the sources 
of those prejudices which obstruct the rectitude of our judgments — 
we have inculcated patience and attention in forming them when 
we have full information — we have enjoined suspense of judgment 
when information is wanting or deficient — we have recommended, 
finally, satisfaction with the best evidence that can be procured, and 
the propriety of judging and acting on that evidence : — we know 
nothing more that can be done to render our judgments sound and 
logical, but that we carefully habituate ourselves to the practice of 
these rules. 

HEMARK. 

Having thus far conducted the pupil through a popular 
course of intellectual philosophy, agreeably to the doc- 
trines of the most respectable and most authentic authors, I 
take leave to offer him a w^ord of advice previously to his 
entrance upon the remaining portion of the volume. Logic 
is neither a frivolous, an ostentatious, nor an unnecessary 
branch of your studies ; but she pretends not to make me- 
chanical reasoners ; she pretends only to lend you her aid 
to find out truth, and to guide the exertions of your own 
faculties in the pursuit of knov^^ledge. Her pretensions are 
at least commendable, and her efforts are entitled to the 
most patient reflection and candid examination. If, then, 
you will travel in the road that leads to the temple of truth, 
if you will employ your faculties to discriminate that celestial 
object when you have reached her sacred mansion, her hand- 
maid. Logic, offers to conduct you thither : you have your 
choice, then, whether you shall remain a stranger to her power, 
and be always the companion of those whom Prejudice con- 
signs to ignorance and insignificance ; or press on with those 
who become her candidates, who are grateful for her favors, 
and who improve them for their advantage. Strive, then, 
my friend, to obtain the flattering distinction claimed by su- 
perior judgment, and by which you can avoid the disgrace 
attached to ignorance and stupidity. 



BOOK IV. 

GRAMMAR OF LOGIC. 
CHAPTER I. 

OF IDEAS. 



443. That the young logician may proceed with perspi- 
cuity, we begin with examining ideas as existing separately, 
or detached from one another. Ideas, as the impressions 
made on the mind either by external objects, through the 
medium of'the senses, or by the consciousness which it has 
of its own internal operations, have been defined in Articles 
34 and 36. 

Rlus. 1. When an external object presents itself to any of the five 
senses, sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell, some picture, or notion, 
or conception, of it is formed in the mind ; but this picture, or no- 
tion, or conception, is totally different from the object, and is called 
the Idea of it ; whereas, the object is called the Archetyye of the Idea. 
{Art. 38. Illus. 1, 2, 3.) 

2. By sight, we receive the greatest number, and the most lively 
of all our Ideas; as, for example, those of all the visible objects in 
nature, animated and inanimated, with which we are already ac- 
quainted, or can become acquainted. By hearing, we get Ideas of 
natural and artificial sounds, particularly of the sounds of language, 
and the important information which they convey. The Ideas of 
the other three senses, taste, smell, touch, are not nearly so numer- 
ous, and they relate mostly to the preservation *or the comfortable 
subsistence of the individual. By taste and smell, we are directed to 
those aliments which are necessary and salutary, and are diverted 
from those which are hurtful or destructive. By the touch, we ex- 
amine the surfaces of bodies, and receive all those Ideas which that 
operation is qualified to suggest. All the Ideas we acquire through 
the medium of the external senses, are said to be. derived from sen- 
sation. (Art. 4].) The only other source of Ideas is our own con- 
sciousness of the feelings and operations, which pass within our 
own minds, and is called Reflection. (Art. 50. and 51.) 

3. You will understand what is meant by Reflection, as a source 



208 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

of Ideas, by the following examples. Every feeling or operation of 
the mind prompts an Idea of that feeling or operation : thus the Ideas 
suggested by the feelings of fear, joy, hope, or by the operations of 
perceiving, arranging, comparing, separating and compounding our 
Ideas, communicate as distinct and as palpable impressions, as any 
that we receive through the medium of the external senses. But, as 
these feelings and operations are all attended with consciousness or 
consideration passing within the mind, they are therefore called Ideas 
of Reflection. {Art. 88. lllus. 1, 2.) 

444. After the mind has been replenished with ideas in 
the manner now explained, it begins to prepare them for 
the purposes of Logic, or the discovery of truth and knowl- 
edge. It arranges them into classes, and assigns them 
different names, according as they are simple or complex, 

DISTINCT or CONFUSED, ADEQUATE Or INADEQUATE, PARTIC- 
ULAR or ABSTRACT. 

I. Of simple and complex Ldeas. 

445. A SIMPLE IDEA, as its name imports, can be con- 
templated only in one view. It cannot be divided or taken 
to pieces, because it does not consist of parts, being natural- 
ly indivisible. 

lllus. Most of our Ideas of the qualities of bodies are of this class, 
as hard, soft, round, smooth, white, black, cold, hot: all Ideas, per- 
haps, of tastes, smells, sounds, as bitter, sweet, low, loud, and many 
of our Ideas of the feelings and operations of the mind, as of desire, 
aversion, hunger, pain, thinking, willing, discerning, reasoning, are 
also of this class. We cannot divide them, even in imagination; 
they are perfectly uniform, and void of parts. 

446. A COMPLEX IDEA coutaius two or more simple or 
subordinate Ideas, into which it may be divided ; and these 
subordinate Ideas, when divided, may be considered sepa- 
rately. 

Ulus. All our Ideas of substances are complex, as of animals, ve- 
getables, and the inanimate parts of nature. The Idea of a tree, 
for instance, inchides a great variety of subordinate Ideas, as those 
of wood, stock, rodts, branches, vegetable life, shape, leaves, bark, 
blossoms, fruit : several of which subordinate Ideas may be subdi- 
vided into other Ideas. All Ideas of figures, as of circles, squares, 
triangles, cubes, cylinders, pyramids ; most of the Ideas of virtues 
and vices, as of jiistice, fortitude, veracity, theft, ingratitude, false- 
hood, deceit. 

II. Of distinct and confused Ideas. 

447. The second division of Ideas was, into distinct and 
confused, or, which is much the same thing, into clear and 



CHAP. 1. Of Ideas. 209 

obscure. Distinct or clear Ideas are those of whicii we have 
a full and perfect comprehension, and which we can readily 
separate or distinguish from all other Ideas. Confused or 
obscure Ideas are those of which we have not a full and per- 
fect comprehension, and which we cannot easily separate or 
distinguish from all other Ideas. 

Illus. Distinct and clear Ideas are perceived with a perspicuity and 
energy similar to that by which the mind contemplates figures in 
mathematics, or numbers in arithmetic ; ail their boundaries and their 
differences are completely discernible. Contused or obscure Ideas are 
like the colors of a rainbow ; they run into one another, and the mind 
neither perceives fully their nature nor their limits. 

448. The acquisition of clear and distinct Ideas is of the 
utmost consequence in the investigation of knowledge ; for 
the degree of conviction with which it is presented to the 
mind, is always in proportion to the degree of clearness and 
distinctness which we have introduced among our Ideas. 

Illus. 1. Were all our Ideas dear, all our knowledge would be de- 
monstrative — a quality which belongs only to our scientific knowledge. 
Obscurity, more or less, adheres to all our other Ideas, and leaves us 
only greater or less degrees of Probable Evidence, corresponding to the 
less or greater obscurity of our Ideas. 

2. In the Mathematical sciences, and in Arithmetic, the evidence is 
demonstrative, because our Ideas of all the figures and numbers about 
which we reason are p'erfectly clear and distinct, and because, in com- 
paring them, we perceive accurately whether they agree or disagree ; 
and if they disagree, how great the excess of one is above another, so 
that we can affirm, either that they are equal, or that the one exceeds 
the other by a certain quantity. 

3. In Morals, in Politics, in Arts, and in^Business, almost all our 
Ideas are more or less obscure : hence, in comparing them, we cannot 
precisely pronounce whether they agree or disagree ; and though we 
were sure that they disagree, yet we cannot accurately ascertain the 
difference. 

Carol. The necessary consequence is, that in all these branches of 
knowledge, we can obtain no Demonstrative Evidence for truth. We 
must be satisfied with Probable Evidence {Art. 309. and 311.), and we 
should be attentive to procure Ideas as clear and distinct as possible, 
that we may reach the highest degree of probability. (See Art. 440, 
441, and 442, with all their Illustrations.) 

III. Of adequate and inadequate Ideas. 

449. The third division of Ideas is into those which are 
.ADEQUATE or INADEQUATE. An Adequate Idea is a perfect 
picture of its archetype^ or contains a representation of all 
the parts of which the archetype consists. 

Jllus. 1. It is different from a distinct Idea, because an Idea may 

17 



210 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

be distinct and not adequate ; that is, we may have a clear perception 
of all the parts of an Idea, as far as these parts extend, though these 
parts may not constitute a complete collection of those of the ar- 
chetype. 

Example 1. We may have a distinct Idea of a triangle, and yet not 
possess an Adequate Idea of a right-angled triangle, an isosceles, or 
scalene ; which, besides ihe general Ideas of three sides and three 
angles, require that the sides and angles should be of a particular 
species. 

Illus. 2. An Inadequate Idea is not a perfect picture of its arche- 
type ; that is to say, itdefes not contain a complete representation of the 
parts of which the archetype consists. 

Example 2. Almost all simple Ideas are adequate, as those of colors, 
tastes, or qualities ; all ideas of mathematical figures, and of numbers, 
as triangles, squares, cubes, cylinders, fifty, a hundred, a thousand, 
ten thousand. 

Illus. 3. But although, when we examine Archetypes with atten- 
tion, Ideas will be as adequate as we can make them ', and when 
knowledge is either demonstrative, or even highly probable. Ideas must 
really, or very nearly, be adequate ; yet, if we compare Ideas, not only 
with what we know of their Archetypes, but with what may be known 
of them, few of our Ideas, except those of mathematics and arithme- 
tic, will be found to be adequate. There is hardly any other thing in 
nature, of which our knowledge is complete. 

Example 3. We are acquainted with a few only of the properties of 
animals, vegetables, and inanimate matter : what substance is, whether 
of matter or spirit, is totally beyond our comprehension. (Corol. 
Art. 164.) 

4. The whole system of the transmutation, or the assimilation of 
nature, by which the nutriment of animals is converted into the dif- 
ferent parts of which their bodies consist, bones, flesh, sinews, blood, 
hair, horn, &c., and by which inanimate nature is converted into the 
numerous parts of vegetables and metals, seemingly so different firom 
one another, as trees, shrubs, leaves, bark, blossoms, fruit, gold, sil- 
ver, mercury, *&c., is to us altogether unintelligible. (See Art. 164. 
Illus. 1, 2.) 

Corol. In all these cases, and in many others which might be ad- 
duced as examples, our Ideas are unavoidably inadequate. Our Idea.« 
are less adequate than they might be, chiefly from two causes ; first; 
Carelessness in the examination of Archetypes, which overlooks some 
of their properties or parts; and, secondly, Inattention in ascertaining 
the meaning of the words employed to denote them, which words often 
do not express the same parts, or all the parts, in our minds, which 
they do in the minds of others. In both cases, our knowledge cannot 
be so complete as that of a person who has taken care to prevent these 
errors or defects ; and in every discourse or controversy with that per- 
r>v>n, we must misunderstand him when these words occur. (Art. 86. 
Illus. 1 and 2.) 

IV. Of particular or abstract Ideas. 

450. The last distinction of Ideas considers them as pau- 
TiCFLAff or ABSTRACT. Thls is the most important distinc« 



CHAP. I. Of Ideas. 211 

tion, becaase it enters deep into the constitution both oi lan- 
guage and knowledge. All things exist in nature as indi- 
viduals or particulars. 

Example 1. Every substance is the substance of some particular 
animal, vegetable, mineral, or inanimate piece of matter. 

2. Every quality of matter ^ as hard, soft, black, white, belongs to 
some substance or body, without which the quahty cannot exist. 

3. Every virtue or vice has always relation to some agent, and 
though we may speak , speculate, or reason concerning them, separated 
from this agent, yet we must admit, that, independent of him, they 
have no actual existence, nor any existence except in Idea. 

451. Particular and abstract ideas have been so fully 
examined in Chapter VI. Book II. under the subject of Ab- 
straction, that we here refer the student to that part of the 
Grammar, to save repetition. 

Ohs. We have now explained the nature of Ideas, and the divis- 
ions of them which appeared to be of consequence sufficient to 
merit attention ; but as this Grammar is not an introduction to the 
idle syllogism of the schools, but to sound reasoning in the sciences, 
in arts, and in business^ and as Ideas are the materials of all reason- 
ing, before we relinquish this subject, we shall point out the most 
frequent causes of their imperfections, and endeavor to suggest the 
best means of preventing or removing these imperfections. When 
we know the causes of error, the road to truth is to avoid it. When 
the Imperfections of Ideas are removed, they of course become clear 
and distinct. 

V. Rules for the Acquisition and Examination of Ideas 
and Words, 

452. Rule I. Furnish yourself with a rich variety of 
Ideas ; acquaint yourself with things ancient and modern ; 
things natural, civil, and religious ; things domestic and 
national ; things of your native land, and of foreign coun- 
tries ; things present, past, and future ; and, above all, rec- 
ollect, that ^' The proper study of mankind is man." Such 
a general acquaintance with things will be of very great ad- 
vantage. 

Bins. 1. ' The first benefit of it is this : it will assist the use o^ reason 
in all its following operations ; it will teach you to judge of things 
aright, to argue justly, and to methodize your thoughts with accuracy. 
When you shall find several things akin to each other, and several 
dissimilar, but agreeing in some part of the idea you form of them, 
and disagreeing in other parts, you will range your ideas in better or- 
der, you will be more easily led into a distinct knowledge of those 
things, and will obtain a rich store of proper thoughts and arguments 
upon all occasions. 

2. Another benefit of it is this : such a large and general acquaint- 



2] 2 A Gr-antmar of Logic. book iv. 

a rice with things will secure you from perpetual udvurations aiiu 
surprises, and guard you against that weakness so peculiar to igno- 
rant persons, who have never seen any thing beyond the confines of 
their own dwelling, and who therefore wonder at almost every 
thing they see ; every thing beyond the smoke of their own chim- 
ney, and the reach of their own windows, being new and strange 
to them. 

3. A third benefit of such an universal acquaintance with things, is 
this ; it will keep you from being too jtositive and dogmatical, from an 
excess of credulity and unbelief, that is to say, from a readiness to be- 
lieve, or to deny every thing, at first hearing ; when you shall have 
often seen, that strange and uncommon things, which often seemed 
incredible, are found to be true ; and things very commonly received 
as true, have been found false. 

Carol. The way of attaining such an extensive treasure of Ideas, is, 
with diligence to apply yourself to read the best books ; converse 
with the most knowing and the wisest of men ; and endeavor to im- 
prove by every person in whose company you are ; suffer no hour to 
pass away in idleness, in impertinent chattering, or useless trifles ; 
visit other cities and countries when you have seen your own, under 
the care of one who can teach you to profit by travelling, and to make 
wise observations ; indulge a just curiosity in seeing the wonders of 
art and nature ; search into things yourselves, as well as learn them 
from others ; be acquainted with men as well as books ; learn all 
things as much as you can at first hand ; and let as many of your 
Ideas as possible be the representations of things, and not merely the 
representations of other men's Ideas : thus your soul, like some noble 
building, shall be richly furnished with original paintings, and not 
with mere copies. 

453. Rule II. Use the most proper methods to retain that 
treasure of Ideas which you have acquired ; for the mind is 
ready to let many of them slip, unless some pains and labor 
be taken to fix them upon the memory. 

Direction. And more especially let those Ideas be laid up and pre- 
served with the greatest care, which are most directly suited, either 
to your eternal icelfare, as a Christian, or to your particular station and 
profession in this life ; for though the former rule recommends an uni- 
versal acquaintance with things, yet it is but a more general and su- 
perficial knowledge that is required or expected of any man, in things 
which are utterly foreign to his own business ; but it is necessary you 
should have a more particular and accurate acquaintance with those 
things that refer to your peculiar province and duty in this life, or 
your happiness in another. 

Obs. There are some persons who never arrive at any deep, solid, 
or valuable knowledge in any science, or any business in life, because 
they are perpetually fluttering over the surface of things, in a curious 
and wandering search of infinite variety; ever hearing, reading, or 
asking after something new, but impatient of any labor to lay up and 
preserve the Ideas they have gained : their souls may be compared to 
a looking-glass, that wheresoever you turn it, it receives the images 
of all objects, but retains none. 



CHAP. I. 



Of Ideas. 213 



454. In order to pieserve your treasure of Ideas, and the 
knowledge you have gained, Dr. Watts advises you to pur- 
sue the following advices, especially in your younger years. 

Advice 1. Recollect every day the things you have scen^ or lieard, or 
read, which may have made an addition to your knowledge : read 
the writings of God and men with diligence and perpetual reviews : 
be not fond of hastening to a new book, or a new chapter, till you 
have well fixed and established in your mind what was useful in the 
last: make use of your memory in this manner, and you will sensi- 
bly experience a gradual improvement of it, while you take care not 
to load it to excess. 

2. Talk over the things which you have seen, heard, or learned, 
with some proper acquaintance. This will make a fresh impression* 
upon your memory ; and if you have no fellow-student at hand, 
none of equal rank with yourself, tell it over to any of your acquaint- 
ance, where you can do it "with propriety and decency ; and whether 
he learn any thing by it or no, your own repetition of it will be an 
improvement to yourself; and this practice also will furnish you 
with a variety of v^ords, and copious language to express your 
thoughts upon all occasions. 

3. Commit to writing some of the most considerable improve- 
ments which you daily make, at least such hints as may recall them 
again to your mind, when perhaps they are vanished and lost. And 
here I think Mr. Locke's method of adversaria or common places, 
which are described in the end of the first volume of his posthumous 
works, is the best; using no learned method at all, setting down 
things as they occur, leaving a distinct page for each subject, and 
making an index to the pages. 

455. At the end of every week, or month, or year, you 
may review your remarks for these reasons : Jirst, to judge 
of your own improvement ; when you shall find that many 
of your younger collections are either weak and trifling ; or 
if they are just and proper, yet they are grown now so fa- 
miliar to you, that you will thereby see your own advance- 
ment in knowledge. And in the next place, what remarks 
you find there worthy of your riper observation, you may 
note them with a marginal star^ instead of transcribing them, 
as being worthy of your second year's review, when the 
others are neglected. 

Ohs. To shorten something of this labor, if the books which you 
read are your own, mark with a pen or pencil the most considerable 
things in them which you desire to remember. Thus you may 
read that book the second time with half the trouble, by glancing 
over the paragraphs which your pencil has noted. It is but a ver}^ 
weak objection against this practice to say, / shall spoil my book , 
for I persuade myself, that you did not buy it, as a hookselhr, to sell 
t again, but as a scholar, to improve your mind by it; and if the 



214 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

mind be improved, your advantage is abundant, though your book 
yields less money to your executors.^ 

456. Rule III. As you proceed both in learning and in 
life, make a wise observation what are the Ideas, what the 
discourses and the parts of knowledge that have been more 
or less useful to yourself or others. 

Obs. In your younger years, while you are furnishing your mind 
with a treasure of Ideas, your experience is but small, and your 
judginent weak. It is therefore impossible, at that age, to determine 
aright concerning the real advantage and usefulness of many things 
you learn. But when age and experience shall have matured your 
judgment, then you will gradually drop the more useless part o£ 
your younger furniture, and be more solicitous to retain that which 
is most necessary for your welfare in this life, or a better. Hereby 
you will come to make the same complaint that almost every learned 
man has done after long experience in study, and in the affairs of 
human life and religion : Mas ! hoio many hours, and days, and 
months, have I lost in pursuing some parts of learning, and in reading 
some authors, which have turned to no other account, hut to inform me 
that they were not icofthy my labor and pursuit ! Happy the youth 
who has a wise tutor to conduct him through all the sciences in the 
first years of his study ; and who has a prudent friend always at 
hand to point out to him, from experience, how much of every 
science is worth his pursuit ! Happy the student that is so wise as 
to follow such advice ! 

457. Rule IV. In endeavoring to attain accurate Ideas 
by the information which you receive, tv\^o operations are 
required ; first, to compare Ideas with their Archetypes ; 
secondly, to compare them with the established meaning of 
the words by which they are denoted. 

Obs. We need not employ much time to evince the necessity 
and utility of this rule. Unless accuracy be obtained, all our labor 
and search are in a great measure thrown away. If the foundation 
be not properly prepared and secured, the superstructure can never 
be finished with beauty and strength. Inaccurate Ideas are little 
better than no Ideas ; they are sometimes worse. In respect of 
every deduction resulting from them, they are not preferable to ig- 
norance, because such deduction cannot be legitimate. But this is 
not their only inconvenience ; they lead us to suppose ourselves 
well informed when we are not so, and, of course, expose us to all 

^ Note. This advice of writing, marking, and reviewing your remarks, 
refers chiefly to those occasional notions you meet with either in reading or ift 
conversation ; but when you are directly and 'professedly pursuing any subject 
of knowledge in a good system in your younger years, the system itself is your 
common-place book, and must be entire!}^ reviewed. The same may be said 
concerning any treatise which closely, succinctly, and accurately handles diiy 
particular theme. 



CHAP. I. Of Ideas. 215 

the mortification which attends the detection of error, and li. all those 
irksome contentions which arise from controversies about the mean 
ing of words. 

Illus. 1. In comparing Ideas with their Archetypes, nothing more 
is requisite than yatience, and attenti-on ; for, by the exercise of these 
qualities, we shall render our Ideas as adequate and accurate as it is in 
our power to make them. We should, for this purpose, carefully and 
repeatedly make comparison, particularly of Ideas which lead, to con- 
sequences of importance, or which relate to topics of ambiguity or 
difficulty. 

2. Of the three kingdoms of nature, as the writers on natural his- 
tory express themselves, animals^ vegetables, and inanimate matter, 
the objects generally remain under our examination as long as we 
please, and we have sufficient time to attend to every particular 
necessary to be known. In the demonstrative sciences, also, Math- 
ematics and Arithmetic, our Ideas of principles at least will be ac- 
curate ; and it is seldom that our conceptions, even of proofs and 
conclusions, are liable to ambiguity. The precise and defined nature 
of the subjects of these sciences, the simple and perspicuous lan- 
guage in which most writers have agreed to communicate them, 
render it almost impossible for a reader endowed with ordinary at- 
tention not to comprehend distinctly the sense intended to be com- 
municated. 

3. It is, then, in the sciences, susceptible only of probable proof, in 
morals, in politics, in metaphysics, in writings which convey miscel- 
laneous truth, as history, criticism ; but particularly in controversial 
writings, and in conversation, that the hazard of inaccurate Ideas is 
very considerable, and the probability of avoiding them altogether is 
exceedingly small. One great source of ambiguity, in all these 
cases, is the indefinite nature of the subjects, and the different aspects 
under which they appear ,to different inquirers ; but the greatest 
source is the unavoidable ambiguity of language, and the difficulty 
of ascertaining exactly the meaning of words. This double indis- 
tinctness, both of the subjects and of the means of communication, 
cannot fail to produce important consequences in all our opinions and 
reasonings. 

VI. Of the Ambiguity of Words, 

458. Simple Ideas are not very numerous, and they are 
called simple, partly because they admit no divisions into 
varts, but chiefly because, in receiving them, the mind is 
'perfectly passive, and cannot acquire them without an 
actual survey of the external objects which suggest them, 
or an actual feeling of the mental operations which produce 
them. 

Example 1 The chief simple Ideas are those of the qualities 
of external objects, light, colors, tastes, smells, sounds ; those of 
the OPERATIONS of the mind, perception, judgment, reasoning, will- 
ing ; and those of pleasure and pain, poioer, extension, unitij, exist- 
ence, which are derived partly from the senses, and partly from rk- 

FL5CTI0N 



216 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

Illus. There is no method of conveying any knowledge of these 
Ideas, but by presenting their archetypes to the external or internal 
percipients ; and if a person be deprived of any of the senses which 
should convey the knowledge of them, no words, no signs, no known 
mode of communication, can supply that defect : he must forever re- 
main in ignorance. 

Exa.ni])le 2. If a persou be deprived of sight, for example, he must 
be destitute of all conceptions of light and colors. If he require an ac- 
count of thinking or 'willing, of pleasure or pain, we can only refer 
liim to experience. 

Carol. About these Ideas, then, no controversy can exist ; because, 
as all men must receive them from their archetypes, all men must, of 
course, receive either the same impressions, and must have these im- 
pressions constantly suggested by the words allotted to denote them ; 
or, even if they receive impressions in a manner in some respects dif- 
ferent, they must speak and reason about them as if they were the 
same ; for every person can speak and reason only about the simple 
Ideas in his own mind. 

Example 3. It is reasonable to believe, that the Idea of the color 
denoted by the word green, is the same in the minds of all men ; but, 
though there were some difference of Idea in different men, yet 
it could not perhaps be detected, for every person must speak and 
reason concerning that color from the Idea of it which he possesses. 

459. The next class of ideas, about which, and the words 
that denote them, little difference or ambiguity can take 
place, consists of those complex Ideas, which result from col- 
lections of simple Ideas of the same kind. These are re- 
moved the first step from simple Ideas ; and as simple Ideas 
are clear and intelligible, the compositions made out of them 
partake of the nature of their constituent parts, and are like- 
wise clear and intelligible. 

Illus. The two sciences susceptible of demonstration present col- 
lections of such Ideas, and, on this account, among others, they are 
capable of the highest species of evidence. All the operations in 
Arithmetic, how complex soever, exhibit at no time any collections 
of Ideas, which result not from different modifications or fractions of 
the simple Idea o? unity. All the enunciations and demonstrations of 
Mathematics, how compounded and refined soever, contain no Ideas 
which are not formed from modifications of the simple Idea of exten- 
sion. All the triangles, circles, squares, and paralleloo^rams, about 
which the mathematician is conversant, exhibit only different views 
and modifications of the same simple Idea of quantity. About simple 
Ideas, of course, and those sciences which involve combinations of 
them, men have differed very little, either in the conceptions of them, 
or in the language by which they are denoted. (See my Grammar of 
Rhetoric, Book III.) 

460. Thus far our path is luminous and patent ; here, 
however, the field of perfect light terminates, and in taking 
another step, we find ourselves in some degree of darkness 



CHAP. 1. Of Ideas, 21? 

and obscurity. For, when we enter the confines of the oth- 
er sciences, morah, politics, criticism — when we contem- 
plate the subjects of miscellaneous knowledge, oratory, 
poetry, history, essays — or attend to the business of arts 
and common life — we immediately encounter complex 
IDEAS, comprehending large groups of subordinate Ideas, 
and these groups composed not of modifications of the same 
siraple Idea, but of combinations of different Ideas, partly 
simple and partly complex, and we find it almost impossible 
to avoid mistakes. 

Example 1. When we examine the ideas denoted by the word 
beauty, a word in every body's mouth, when speaking of truth, arts, 
and animals, we are amazed at the multiphcity which it includes, 
and the combinations which it exhibits. When apphed to truth, 
it denotes some important proposition, estabUshed by a clear, but a 
refined train of proof; as when we speak of a beautiful theorem, or 
a beautiful discovery. When applied to animals, it includes the 
Ideas of shape, color, utility, sensibility, acquired bodily and mental 
accomplishments, youth, health, gracefulness ; as when we speak of 
a beautiful looman : when applied to arts, it includes uniformity, 
variety, high polish, convenience, utility ; as when we speak of a 
beautiful picture. 

Example 2. Taste is another word in frequent use among men of 
genius, and lovers of the fine arts, and it also will serve to illustrate 
to what ambiguity communication is in many cases unavoidably ex- 
posed. Taste signifies that sensibility to the beauties of nature, of 
genius, and of art, which results from a sound state of the imagina- 
tion, and thorough exercise of the understanding, which leads us 
to distinguish, and properly to prize, these beauties. (£rt. 270. 
Illus. 1,2.) 

Illus. 1. It is plain, that much ground of difference is laid in the 
nature of the objects of this internal sense, because every man must 
judge from the state of his own faculties, and the cultivation of the 
faculties of no two men, perhaps, is entirely equal. Their Ideas of 
the objects of taste must share a similar difference, and must cor- 
respond to the state of their respective faculties. It were easy to 
multiply examples ; but it will appear from those already atiduced, 
that a double source of ambiguity prevails v/ith respect to the 
Ideas and the toords which we have mentioned, and many more 
similar Ideas and words, which every day occur in books and in the 
business of life. 

2. The Ideas which compose a complex idea may really be dif- 
ferent in different men's minds, according to the improvement of 
their faculties, or their powers of perception ; but the greatest hazard 
of error results from the inattention with which the complex Idea 
may be formed. 

Example 3. Thus, one man may omit some of the Ideas which 
compose the complex ones o^ beauty and taste; others may add to them 
more Ideas than they naturally and justly contain. 

UltLS. 3. Another great source of ambiguity in every inquiry where 



218 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

body or spirit is concerned, is the nature of substances, whether corjyo- 
real or spiritual. What substance is, we are utterly ignorant. (Art. 
349. Examjde 3.) All we can conceive of it is, that it supports quali- 
ties, and, of course, all our Ideas of substances are nothing more than 
collections of the qualities which we have found to belong to them 
respectively. Now, if other persons form not the same conception 
with us of any of these qualities, or if they either add to their num- 
ber, or diminish from it, it is plain that their complex Idea of the sub- 
stance can never agree with ours, and that in all communication con- 
cerning it, we and they must misunderstand one another. (See Chap. 
IV. Book III. Gram, of Rhetoric.) 

Corol. From these Illustrations, the following important practical 
rule will be allowed to result, as a good preservative against ambi- 
guity. 

461. Rule 1. In all cases, when complex ideas come 
under our consideration, we should employ every precau- 
tion to render our collection of the constituent Ideas as 
complete and accurate as possible ; and whenever we dis- 
cover that our reasonings and conclusions disagree with 
the reasonings and conclusions of those with whom we con- 
verse, or whose books we read, we should stop and reexam- 
ine both the constituent Ideas and the expression of them, 
because it is possible, that in the reexamination, we shall 
discover the cause of the difference. 

Illus. 1. The propriety and utility of every part of this rule ap- 
pear so obvious, as hardly to need any illustration. Happy had it 
been for the peace of society, fortunate had it been for the progress 
of knowledge, if it had always been punctually practised. All those 
irritating and frivolous disputes which pester conversation, almost all 
those controversies which have disturbed and distracted the world, 
would have been prevented. Consult the controversies which have 
involved, not individuals only, but classes and periods of learned men, 
and you will find that they have originated chieHy from misapprehen- 
sions of the Ideas and terms which furnish the ground of the difference, 
and that, if the parties had exercised any patience and pains to un- 
derstand one another, before they began to dispute, they might have 
prevented much trouble and vexation to themselves, and much con- 
tention and disturbance to society. (See Chap. III. Book III. Gram, 
of Logic.) ^ 

2. The famous controversy concerning the superior merit of an- 
cient or modern learning, which interested and divided almost all 
the learned men of Europe in the end of the Seventeenth and the 
beginning of the Eighteenth century, and which still interests, and 
sometimes divides, learned men, appears a pertinent illustration. It 
is a controversy about the meaning of words, and affords very little 
ground of differend^ of opinion, when the terms are fully ascer- 
tained. The parties have never considered, that no comparison of 
authors can exist, except in circumstances perfectly similar. If the 
state of ancient society gave encouragemen to some efforts of genius 
and industry, which are not now prompts ■ by similar incitements 



CHAP. I. Of Ideas. 219 

can we wonder that these efforts should be more brilliant in the for- 
mer situation than they are found to be in the latter ? If oratory, statu- 
ary, architecture, and perhaps poetry, received superior countenance 
and patronage in Greece, than they found even in Rome, and much 
more than they have found in modern times, is it not natural to expect 
that their exhibitions should be more deserving of applause ? 

3. If, on the other hand, the moderns possess superior knowledge of the 
system of nature, from the advantages which the progress of science 
has thrown into their hands ; if the improvements of government,' and 
the extension of rej5nement and knowledge, have led them to excel in 
politics, in moral researches, and in the greater part of the useful arts, 
can we be surprised at their superiority ? It was impossible that the 
moderns could rival the ancients in the former case ; it is equally im- 
possible that we should not rival them in the latter. The superiority 
in the one case, or the inferiority in the other, neither compliments 
nor impeaches the genius of either ; it is the natural consequence of 
the different situations of human affairs, and, without a miracle, could 
not have been otherwise. Had the keen combatants in this contro- 
versy attended to this natural state of the case, they would have 
avoided their ill-founded and .senseless recriminations. The patrons 
of modern literary merit unjustly measure the merits of ancient 
genius by a scale adopted from modern ideas and manners ; the pat- 
rons of ancient genius retaliate the same charge, and pretend to de- 
termine the eminence of modern genius by a scale derived from the 
ideas and manners of ancient times. Let these reasonable limitations 
be admitted, and the shadow of a controversy would vanish : the dif- 
ference would at least be found to be so frivolous, as to satisfy every 
mafl of the absurdity of the contest. (Chap. VI . Book III. Grammar 
of Rhetoric.) 

JVote. A second rule, respecting the ambiguity of words, is couched 
in the following article. 

VII. Of Enumeration, Description, and Definition. 

462. Rule 2. After ascertaining the amount of a com- 
plex TERM by enumeration, by description, or by definition, 
employ it always in the same sense, without adding to, dimin- 
ishing, or changing the Ideas it denotes. 

Illus. 1. Enumeration, commonly called division by logicians, is 
a recapitulation of the subordinate Ideas, of which a complex Idea con- 
sists, and forms a very satisfactory method of explaining or ascertain- 
ing that complex Idea. 

Example 1. The term gratitude includes the following subordinate 
Ideas : a consciousness of favor received, a disposition to acknowledge 
it on every proper occasion, and a resolution to seize the first opportu- 
nity of returning a similar favor to the benefactor. Honor, in like 
manner, includes an unalterable regard to truth in words, humanity a.nd 
generosity in actions, candor and forgiveness in thoughts, and resent- 
ment of insult or affront. 

Illus. 2. Description, also, is a sort of enumeration, but is applica- 



220 A Grainmar of Logic, book iv. 

ble chiefly to objects of sight. It is used often to distinguish objects of 
sight, which have not obtained names, or of which the names are un- 
known. We describe a lamlscapej a rivei-, a houses a town, a ship, a 
horse, a tree, a robber, in order to communicate Ideas of these objects 
to those who have not seen them, or to enable those to distinguish 
them when they do see them. Description is a recapitulation of the 
parts or properties of the object described. 

Example 2. A landscapfj contains cornfields, plantation's, water 
running or stagnating, hills, houses, villages, animals, situate in such a 
manner as diversify it from all other landscapes. The color, shape^ 
strength, gentleness, fleetness, and easy motion, which constitute the 
description of my horse, discriminate him from all other horses. 
A deserter, or a robber, is described by his stature, figure, complexion, 
features, and dress, or, in other words, by a recital of the particu- 
lars, which form his appearance, and which mark him out among 
other men. 

Illus. 3. Definition is the last method of ascertaining complex 
Ideas or general terms, and differs not essentially from the preceding 
methods. The chief difference is, the use of it on different occa- 
sions. It may be employed in fixing complex Ideas of all sorts, 
whether their archetypes are objects of the external senses, or are the 
creatures of reflection ; that is, whether they exist \n matter or in mind. 
It is used, however, chiefly to ascertain species, whose archetypes exist 
in the mind. 

A good definition consists of two parts ; by one part are marked 
those objects with which the thing defined has any common qualities ; 
by the other part are marked those qualities which characterize the thing 
defined alone. Nothing more can be done to ascertain the nature of 
any object, than to point out those objects with which it has any com- 
mon qualities, and next to enumerate the qualities peculiar to itself. 
{Art. 288.) 

CoroL 1. Hence the logical rule, that every definition should con- 
sist of a genus and a specific difference {Art. 179 and 168.), the genus 
denoting the com^mon qualities, and the specific difference the charac- 
teristic or peculiar ones. {Art. 158.) 

Example 3. Suppose it were required to define what the mathe- 
maticians call a square, or a parallelogram, these most accurate of all 
logicians will tell us that ^' a square is a figure which has four equal 
sides and four right angles," and that " a parallelogram is a four- 
sided figure, of which the opposite sides are parallel." {Art. 170. 
Illus. and Corol.) 

Analysis. The things defined are species ; that is, the square and 
the parallelogram are not a, square and a parallelogram which exist in 
some book, or are delineated on a particular board; they stand for the 
entire species of squares and parallelograms,' and mark the properties 
common to all the individuals of these species. {Art. 182. Illus. 
and Corol.) 

The first part of the definition refers them to their genus, or char- 
acterizes them by the name o^ figures, by which it is signified that they 
have something in common loith all other matheinatical species, circles, 
triangles, rhombuses, ellipses; namely, they include space, and are 
bounded, by lines. 



^HAP. I. Of Ideas. 22i 

The second part of the definition exhibitwS their specific difference, 
or enumerates the • peculiar properties loliich distinguish them from 
all the other species of the same genus; squares have /o?/.r right 
angles and four equal sides ; parallelograms have also four angles 
anid four sides ; but their specific difference consists in the opposite 
sides being equal and parallel, which no other species have but 
themselves. 

Example 4. If we define eloquence to be the art of speaking or 
writing v)ell — logic the art of reasoning well — statuary the art of 
forming an exact resemblance of the human shape in marble — painting 
the art of delineating a resemblance of the same shape on canvass by 
means of oil colors, we refer all these species to their genus, and 
mark properties in which they all agree j namely, in being ar^s, acquired 
by industry and practice, and then we mention the properties which 
distinguish these arts from ail other arts, and from one another ; elo- 
quence by speaking or icriting well ; logic by reasoning well ; stat- 
uary hyforming a resembUince of the human shape in marble ; painting 
by delineating a similar resemblance on canvass. 

5. If, again, we define morality to be the science which teaches 
to be wise, virtuous, and happy — politics the science which teaches to 
provide for the prosperity of communities, or large bodies of men — 
mathematics the science which teaches to compute quantity — pneu- 
matics the science which teaches the properties of spirits, or the doc- 
trine of fluids — optics the science which teaches the theory of vision 
and colors ; we refer, first, all these branches of knowledge to their 
next genus, science, by which we signify, that they all agree in 
presenting some useful truths to the mind, and that they are sup- 
ported by satisfactory evidence. In the second place, we distinguish 
each science from the rest, and from all other sciences not men- 
tioned, by specifying, as above, the particular truths which it incul- 
cates. {Example 2. Art. 304.) 

lllus. 4. Definition might certainly be employed to discriminate 
complex Ideas on every occasion, and might supersede both enumera- 
tion and description ; but in all such cases, the specific difference 
would become either an enumeration or description. Indeed, there is no 
material difference between these methods of ascertaining Ideas, ex- 
cept in the length of the specific difference. An enumeration, or a 
description^ either includes or supposes a genus, to which the Idea ex- 
plained refers ; and the specific difference of every definition is 
either an enumeration or a description. 

Ex'imple 6. The enumeration formerly advanced, of the Ideas ex- 
pressed by the word honor (Example, Art. 462.), may easily be con- 
verted into a definition, of which the specific difference will become 
the enumeration itself. ^' Honor is a disposition which prompts us 
to regard truth in our words, generosity in our actions, candor in our 
thoughts, and to entertain resentment of insult or affront.'' In like 
manner, we may convert the description of a horse mto a defini- 
tion, of which the description will constitute the specific difference. 
We may call him an animal of a cylindrical body, long and taper 
legs, high neck, beautiful head, of gentle temper, easy motion, and 
fit for riding. 

lllus. 5. It is to be observed, however, that when the specific dif- 
18 



222 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

fercnce resolves itself into an enmneration, or a description, it is of 
little consequence to distinguish the genus. On the other hand, 
when it is of consequence to distinguish the genus, the specific dif- 
ference seldom consists of more than one or two properties. Defini- 
tion is always used in the last case, and enumeration or description 
in the two first. Enumeration is commonly employed to explain 
complex Ideas, of which it is of little consequence to mention the 
genus ; description, to ascertain complex Ideas, the archetypes of which 
are objects of sight ; and definition, to ascertain the abstract Ideas 
of species. 

Illus. 6. With respect to definition, it is proper further to ob- 
serve, that we must never attempt to apply it to simple Ideas, because 
they are immediately derived from perception, prompted by the 
objects or operations which suggest them; and no definition or ex- 
plication can render them more distinct or intelligible than they are. 
Even the mathematicians have not always been sufficiently attentive 
lo this remark. 

Example 7. The word ratio denotes the Idea of equality or inequal- 
ity, which results from the comparison of two magnitudes of the 
same kind in point of quantity ', as when one of the magnitudes is 
said to be equal to, greater or less than the other, or to hold to it some 
fixed proportion. (Example 1. Art. 304.) 

Obs. The Idea appears to be simple ; at least no words can make 
it plainer than the actual comparison of the magnitudes by which it 
is .prompted. Yet some editions of Euclid, which we have seen, 
previous to the one published by Dr. Simpson of Glasgow, present 
the following definition of ratio. " Ratio," we are told, '' is a habi- 
tude of magnitudes of the same kind, according to quantity." Hab- 
itude is a word, which, to say the least of it, is unintelligible as 
applied to ratio ; yet it seems that no plainer word could be found. 
'^ Ratio," says Simpson, '' is the mutual relation of two magnitudes, 
of the same kind, to one another, in respect of quantity." (See Illus, 
3. Art. 304.) 

Example 8. Motion is another simple Idea, on which Aristotle, 
and the schoolmen after him, have exercised their ingenuity, and 
have produced the following famous specimen of jargon. They tell 
us, that motion is " actus entis in potentia, quatenus in potentia," 
the act of being in energy, as far as it is in energy. Even later philos- 
ophers, who define motion by '' a passage from one place to another," 
do not make the matter much plainer. They only substitute one 
word for another, and it is difficult to decide whether motion is better 
explained by passage, or passage by motion. 

Carol. 2. As, then, complex ideas only are susceptible of explica- 
tion in any of the ways which we have mentioned, if we would pre- 
serve perspicuity, careful attention must be paid, that the same 
meaning, thus settled, shall be invariably retained. The determi- 
nation of this point is simple and easy, and may always be accom- 
plished by substituting the explication in the place of the term 
defined. If this be practicable, and the sense be preserved, we 
may be confident we have not changed the meaning of the term. 
(Art. 167. Illus.) 

Scholium. Before we relinquish this branch of the subject, it is 



*HAP. II. Of Propositions, 223 

proper lo observe, that although, in compUance with the example 
of all logical writers, we have considered all knowledge as com- 
posed of Ideas, and feel even disposed to call every impression made 
on the mind^ whether derived from an external or an internal arche- 
type, by this name ; yet these impressions have obtained other names 
than Ideas. Thus all impressions, prompted by archetypes^ which 
have a real existence without the mind, are distinguished by the name 
of perceptions. {Art. 113.) All impressions of which the archetypes 
have no real existence, but are the creatures of the imagination, as a 
mountain of gold, a sea of milk, are denominated conceptions. {Jirt. 
140. Illus.) Those impressions only are called Ideas, which have 
been formerly received into the mind, and are again recalled by 
Memory. You will find this explanation useful in reading this 
Grammar as well as some Metaphysical, and even some Critical 
Writers ] but we may in general give the name of Idea to every im- 
pression, whether simple or complex, and from whatever source it 
may be derived. 

JYote. I am aware that in Chapter VI. Book II. some portion of the 
reasoning advanced in this chapter has been anticipated ; but the 
subject matter of that chapter could not be discussed without antici- 
pating some part of this; and as instruction, not pedantry, is the 
object of this Grammar, the logician, properly so caMed, will approve 
my plan, rather than join in its censure, with that illiberal spirit, 
falsely called criticism, so current among those, who, unacquainted 
with the discharge of scholastic duties, would " put old heads on 
young shoulders." 



CHAPTER II. 

OF PROPOSITIONS. 

463. All that we have hitherto advanced in this Book, is 
a mere preparation of the materials of Logic ; and we have 
to apply these materials to the investigation of truth and the 
acquisition of knowledge. 

Illus. The investigation of truth and knowledge consists of two 
operations ; one which compares two Ideas, or one pair of Ideas to- 
gether, in order to peceive in them agreement or disagreement; 
another which compares two Ideas by the help of one or more in- 
termediate Ideas. The truth or knowledge acquired by the first 
operation, is said to result from Judgment (see Art. 26.) ; the truth 
or knowledge acquired by the second operation, is said to result from 
Reasoning. (Art. 294.) 

I. Knowledge and Truth. 
464 What is knowledge? and, What is truth? We 



224 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

are familiarized with these words, and are not disposed to 
suspect any mystery in their meaning. Their meaning, 
however, is not so obvious as is generally supposed ; and it 
is of so much importance in our present inquiry, that we 
cannot proceed without attempting to ascertain it. i^Ai^t, 
302. /. //. Corol) 

lllus. 1. Knowledge, then, in a logical sense, is the perception of 
the agreement or disagreement of Ideas with one another; Truth 
is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of Ideas with 
words. But what, it will again be asked, perhaps, is the signification 
of these words, agreement and disagreement? The signification of 
these words is not always the same, but varies according to the 
nature of the science, the art, or the subject, about which the Ideas 
are employed. {Art. 295. lllus.) 

Example 1. In Arithmetic and Mathematics, the only comparison 
of Ideas which can take place, relates to the equality or inequality of 
the quantities ; agreement denotes equality, disagreement inequality. 
Thus, when we compare the quantities four and five, we perceive 
that they are unequal, or that the Ideas of them disagree. We per- 
ceive, further, if we add one to four^ that these two together form a 
compound quantity, which will be exactly equal to five, or that the 
Ideas /owr and one, conjoined, will agree with the l&edifive. 

Corol. 1. Our knowledge, then, that/owr is not equal to five, but 
that four and one are equal to five, is the intuitive perception 
which we have, that the Idea of four disagrees with the Idea of five, 
while the Idea of four and one together agrees with the Idea of five. 
{Corol 1. Art. 293.) 

Example 2. In like manner, from the Ideas which we have of a 
right angle, or half a right angle, or from the Ideas which we have 
of an acre, and half an acre, which we know certainly, that the half 
right angle disagrees with, or is a less quantity than the whole right 
angle ) that the half acre disagrees with, or is a less quantity than 
the whole acre ; and that if we double the half right angle and the 
half acre, we shall form two compound quantities, the Ideas of which 
will agree respectively with those of the whole right angle and the 
whole acre. 

Corol. 2. The perception of the agreement or disagreement of 
Ideas, in all these cases, is the same thing with the knowledge of the 
equality or inequality of the quantities compared. 

Example 3. If, in natural philosophy, we compare body or matter 
with divisibility, we immediately discover that divisibility applies to 
matter, or is a property of it; in other words, we find that the Idea 
of matter and divisibility agree together, and we know that matt^er 
is divisible. 

Ohs. Agreement, in this case, signifies property or relation, not 
equality, as in the preceding cases. 

Example 4. If we maintain in morals, that a good man is happy ; 
or in politics, that a wise king is a blessing to his people ; or in arts, 
that industry is commonly attended with success, — 

Corol. 3. Our knowledge of all these maxims is perfectly the same 
thing with the agreement which we perceive between the Ideas of a 



CHAP. II. Of Propositions, 225 

good man. and happiness ; of a wise king, and the happiness of his 
people; of industry, and the acquisition of wealth. 

lllus. 2. (I.) Truth relates to the enunciation of knowledge, and is 
the agreement of Ideas with loords. Thus, if we assert that the 
British is a free government, and that the English are more indus- 
trious than any other nation in Europe, we maintain truth, because 
our words actually correspond to accurate Ideas of the facts. If, 
agaii , we say, that the three angles of a triangle are equal to two 
right angles, we express a truth, because it is demonstrable that our 
ivords and our Ideas agree. 

II. Falsehood, on the other hand, is the disagreement of words 
with Ideas ; when it is asserted, that the British government is des- 
potic, or that the three angles of a triangle are equal to three right 
angles. 

III. A MISTAKE IS the disagreement of words with Ideas, when we 
suppose that they agree. 

IV. The Ignominious falsehood called a lie, is the disagreement of 
toords with Ideas, uttered with an intention to deceive. (See my 
Grammar of Rhetoric, Ch. V. B. III.) 

lllus. 3. Knowledge, further, is of two kinds, certain a.nd probable. 
Certain knowledge is that which the mind has when it is perfectly 
satisfied of the agreement or disagreement of Ideas. Probable knowU 
edge is that which the mind has when the agreement or disagree- 
ment of Ideas is not so clear as to afford entire satisfaction. The 
degrees of probability are also greater or less, according as the satis- 
faction is more or less perfect, {Art. 310. lllus.) 

II. Different Kinds of Propositions, 

465. In judging of the agreement or disagreement of 
Ideas, we examine them in pairs, and the words in which 
we express that Judgment, form a sentence called a propo- 
sition., [lllus. Art, 29.) 

lllus. For example, if the Idea of a whole be compared with the 
Idea of a part, it is immediately found that they disagree ; and this 
Judgment is expressed by the following proposition : ^' The whole is 
greater than any of its parts." But, if the Idea of the ichole be com- 
pared with the Idea of all its parts taken together, it is found that they 
agree ; and this Judgment is expressed by the following proposition : 
^' The whole is equal to all its parts taken together." (lllus. 2. 
Art. 306.) 

466. If the agreement or disagreement be perceived by 
bare juxtaposition of the Ideas, without the intervention of 
any intermediate Idea, the evidence of the proposition is 
said to be intuitive. (Corol. Example 1. Art. 464.) But if 
the agreement or disagreement be perceived by means of 
some intermediate Idea, or train of Ideas, the mind then 
must proceed by steps. (Art, 298. Obs.) 

18* 



226 A Grarmnar of Logic. book iv 

lllus. It raiist compare the jirst Idea of the proposition with the 
first inter mediaie Idea, and pass a judgment on their agreement or 
disagreement. (£rt. 464. lllus. 1.) It must next compare the first 
intermediate Idea with the second intermediate Idea, and pass a similar 
judgment. It must proceed, in like manner, through all the inter- 
mediate Ideas, and pass similar judgments, till it comes to compare 
the last intermediate Idea with the latter Idea of the proposition ) and 
from all these intermediate judgments, the conclusive judgment is 
deduced, concerning the agreement or disagreement of the two pri- 
mary Ideas of the proposition. {Art. 244. Example.) In this case, 
the evidence of the proposition, declarative of the agreement or disa- 
greement of the two primary Ideas, is said to be founded on reason- 
ing. (Art. 280. lllus. and Examples.) 

Corol. It hence appears, that all knowledge, whether the offspring 
of intuition, or the result of reasoning, is denoted by propositions, 
which express the agreement or disagreement of Ideas ; that each 
proposition contains two Ideas, simple or complex, besides the as- 
sertion of agreement or disagreement; and that the proposition 
which denotes agreement may be called affirmative, that v/hich denotes 
disagreement may be called negative. ^^ That the three angles of a 
triangle are equal to two right angles," is an affirmative proposition ; 
and ^^ that a part is not equal to the whole," is a negative proposition. 
{Art. 465. lllus.) 

467. The two capital Ideas constitute two parts of a 
Proposition. The first Idea, or sometimes several Ideas con- 
sidered as one, is that of which something is affirmed or de- 
nied, and is therefore called the subject of the proposition 
{Art. 159. lllus. 1.) ; the second Idea, or sometimes several 
Ideas considered as one, is the property, or quality, or attri- 
bute, vi^hich is either affirmed or denied to belong to, or to 
agree w\\h, the first Idea, and is therefore called the predi- 
cate of the Proposition. (Art. 152. lllus. 2.) 

Example. '• The three angles of a triangle are equal to two right 
angles," is a proposition of which the Idea of the three right angles 
forms the subject, and the Idea of equality to two right angles forms 
the PREDICATE. The affirmation contained in the word are is com- 
monly called by logicians the copula, or connective of the Propo- 
sition, (lllus. Art. 281.) 

468. Propositions, further, are distinguished by different 
names, according to the clearness of the evidence by which 
the agreement or disagreement of the subject and predicate 
is evinced. (Art. 288.) 

lllus. 1. If the evidence be perfectly satisfactory, the proposition is 
denominaleo . ertain. {lllus. 2. Art. 309.) 

2. If tne evidence be not perfectly satisfactory, it is denominated 
probaMe ; and it is more or less prohable, according as the evidence is 
more or less satisfactory. {Art. 309. Elus. 1.) 

3. If the evidence for the agreement of the subject and predicate 



CHAP. II. Of Propositions. 227 

balance the evidence for their disagreement, the proposition is called 
doubtful. 

4. If the evidence be stronger on the side of disagreement, it gets 
the name of iinprohahle ; and the improbabihty will be the greater, 
as the evidence of disagreement shall increase. 

5. If the proposition bear an affirmation contrary to Ideas, it ob- 
tains the name o? false. (Illus. 3. Art. 278.) 

6. If the affirmation be conformable to Ideas, it is denominated true. 

469. Propositions, also, are divided into universal, partic- 
ular, singular, indefinite, conditional, and relative. (See 
Art. 449, 450, 451.) 

Illus. 1. An universal proposition is that whose subject compre- 
hends an entire genus or species. 

Exiimple 1. Thus, '^ All animals are endowed with life and organ- 
ization," is an universal proposition, because the subject of it in- 
cludes, and the predicate applies to, all living creatures, or to a whole 
genus. {Art. 158. Illus.) 

2. ^^ All men are liable to err," is another universal proposition, 
because the subject includes, and the predicate applies to, a whole 
species, or every individual of the human race. 

Illus. 2. A PARTICULAR PROPOSITION dcuotcs a limited or partial 
meaning of the subject, or signifies that it does not include an 
entire genus or species; and, in this case, the restricting words, 
some, few, many, &c., usually j^rece^e the subject of the proposition. 
(Art. 159. Illus.) 

Examples. '^ Few men spend their time to the best advantage," — 
*^ Many men repent of their folly when it is too late," — are both par- 
ticular propositions, because they include a part only of the human 
species, to which they refer. 

Illus. 3. A SINGULAR PROPOSITION lias an individual for its subject. 

Examples. '■^ Alexander conquered the Persians," — " Caesar was 
assassinated in the senate-house." 

4. An INDEFINITE PROPOSITION relates to one individual among 
many, and is commonly introduced by the indefinite article. 

Examples. ^' A wise man guides his affairs with discretion ; " ^' A 
fool is perpetually betraying his ignorance and impudence." 

5. A CONDITIONAL PROPOSITION exprcsscs condition or"dependence. 
Example 2. '^ If people break the laws, they will be punished." 

6. A RELATIVE PROPOSITION dcuotcs couscquencc or connection. 
Example 3. '■'• Though he fall, yet will he rise again." But the 

distinctions under Ulus. 5 and 6, seem to belong rather to grammar 
than to logic. 

470. Propositions sometimes receive different names, 
according to the hinds of evidence by which they are sup- 
ported. The chief of these kinds receive their names from 
the evidence furnished by sensation, consciousness, intui- 
tion, reasoning, and testimony ; and it is of consequence to 
consider propositions with regard to these kinds of evi- 
dence, because they lead us to the chief sources of human 
knowledge. 



228 A Grammar of Logic. book \v. 

llLus. By the external senses we are made acquainted with all 
the objects in nature, which can contribute either to our use or to 
our pleasure ; and of all the propositions derived from the testi- 
mony of these senses and feelings, we never, in the intercourse 
of life, presume to entertain the slightest doubt. {Art. 100. Illas, 
291.) We believe that the city, the house, the man, the horse, the 
tree, the fish, that we behold, really exist, and possess those proper- 
ties or qualities which we perceive to belong to them. {Art. 120. 
lilus. and Carol.) We never hesitate whether the propositions 
containing the result of our perceptions respecting them are true. 
{Art. 116. Illus. 1 and 2.) We hesitate as little about propo- 
sitions significant of the reality of our bodily feelings, and of our 
desires to gratify them; such as, that hunger, thirst, pain, are uneasy 
sensations, from which all men wish to be relieved, and that rest 
after fatigue is a source of pleasure. {Art. 112. Illus. 1, 2, 3, 4, 
5, 6, 7.) 

Corol. In all these cases, no means of conviction are presented to 
the mind, besides perceptions and feelings. The knowledge, accord- 
ingly, derived from this source, is often called the dictates of sense ; 
and the sentences that denote this knowledge are sometimes termed 
sensible propositions. {Art. 290. Illus. 6. Corol.) 

III. Sources of Human Knoivledge 

471. I. Mental feeling, or consciousness, is a copi- 
ous source of knowledge, and furnishes evidence of the 
trutii of a numerous class of propositions. By conscious- 
ness we gain an acquaintance with the human constitution, 
particularly with the important operations of the under- 
standing, the imagination, and the passions. (See Chapter 
L Book IL) 

Illus. 1. If you affirm that your imagination is pleased with a fine 
prospect, a beautiful landscape, an elegant exhibition of art, whether 
in writing, painting, sculpture, or architecture; if you assert, that 
your understanding is delighted with the discovery of truth on all 
subjects, an^ in all degrees, from the lowest degree of probability 
to the most satisfactory evidence of intuition or demonstration ; if you 
maintain that all your passions were given you for wise and good 
purposes ; that all the gratifications of them, within the limits pre- 
scribed by reason and by virtue, are pleasant, salutary, and com- 
mendable ; and that all irregular gratifications are in themselves not 
only improper, but also painful and destructive; — you have hardly 
any proof to produce of the numerous propositions, which express 
the various cases into which these views of the human mind may be 
resolved, except an appeal to the consciousness of the person whom 
you wish to convince. (See Art. 24.) 

2. Should you affirm that your imagination is not captivated with 
a beautiful scene of nature or art; should you declare that your 
.understanding receives no pleasure in the discovery of truth, or that 
the gratification of a regular passion yields you no joy, while the 
agitation of an irregular one fills you with satisfaction ; — all I can 



CHAP. II. Of Propositions, 229 

urge is, that you mistake your constitution, or that its structure is 
different from the constitution of most other men ; and if you per- 
sist in maintaining the consciousness of the truth of what you as- 
sert, I can only oppose a contrary consciousness on my part. We 
must continue of opposite opinions, for I can advance no arguments 
to persuade you to adopt my notions. 

Corol. 1. From this view of knowledge, it will appear, that many 
moral and political propositions, many too which communicate truth,, 
in oratory, poetry, criticism, and business, are principally, if not en- 
tirely, supported by consciousness. 

lilus. 3. If you assert, that all men applaud a generous or a grate- 
ful action, and detest an unjust or a cruel one ) that kings are prone 
to tyrannize over their subjects, or that the people are disposed to 
insult and oppose their rulers; that the beauties of eloquence and 
poetry are felt by all mankind, even the most unpolished and un- 
learned ; that the rules of criticism are nothing more than the theo- 
ries of emotions and passions ; that prudence and industry are the 
best and surest means of attaining success in business, while folly 
and idleness are commonly attended with misfortune and contempt; — 
you appeal to consciousness concerning the truth of the propositions 
which you advance. 

4. If you. gain not immediate assent, all you can do to procure it 
is, to enumerate examples, by which the opinions which you main- 
tain have been verified, and to hold forth these as documents of 
general concurrence, in support of the judgment which you have 
formed. 

Corol. 2. In all these subjects, the most satisfactory evidence, and 
the best theories, are founded on the nature of the human constitu- 
tion. The most sagacious and successful moralists, politicians, 
critics, and observers of human affairs, ground their maxims and 
their observations on the qualities of the mind, of which they are 
conscious themselves, or of which they discover that others are 
conscious. 

472. II. Intuition, another copious source of knowledge, 
communicates to us conviction of the truth of all those prop- 
ositions which are denominated self-evident. Intuition is 
the perception of the agreement or disagreement of two Ideas 
on bare juxtaposition, without the intervention of any third 
Idea; and the proposition which expresses our judgment of 
that agreement or disagreement is said to be supported by 
intuitive evidence. [Art. 340 and 341.) 

Elus. 1. All the axioms of mathematics and arithmetic ; as, that 
" Two straight lines cannot contain a space," — " Things equal to 
the same thing are equal to one another," — " Two and three are 
equal to five," — '^ Two and three are not equal to six;" — all the 
principles adopted in physical science; as, that "A body cannot 
be in two places at the same time," — -^ Nothing can produce noth- 
ing," — '' It is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be ;" — 
all the maxims relative to identity; as, that ^^ Matter is matter," 
and, '• Spirit is spirit" (which by the bye are truisms), form intuitive 
propositions, 



230 A Grammar of Logic. book iv, 

2. All certain reasoning, commonly called demonstration , must 
begin with a comparison of two Ideas expressed by an intuitive prop- 
osition ; and every proposition, expressive of the agreement of any 
two intermediate Ideas, or of every successive step of the demon- 
stration, must be intuitive. 

3. These are the chief cases of intuitive truth. But before We 
leave this topic, we must observe, that some axioms which philoso- 
phers seem to be so fond of holding forth as the foundations of all 
science, appear so far from being such, that no reasoning is ever 
founded on them, and that they are of no essential use in the course 
of reasoning. This leads us to ask. What is an axiom ? It is evi- 
dently a general proposition, including a number of pa.rticular cases, 
and declarative of an intuitive truth. This truth must be as obvious, 
when surveyed in any of the particular cases, as it is in the general 
proposition. If this therefore be true, the axiom can be of little use, 
for its application to the particular case affords no light which the 
mind did not possess before that application. 

Exam/pie 1. If you say that two and three are equal to four and owe, 
I am perfectly satisfied of the equality of these two quantities, be- 
fore the application of the axiom, that " Things equal to the same 
thing are equal to one another," and before I add, that they are 
both equal to five. The axiom adds no light to my conceptions. It 
merely repeats, in general terms, what was expressed more simply, if 
not more intelligibly, in particular terms. 

2. If from two lines, each a mile long, you take away respective- 
ly two half miles, I cannot hesitate a moment, that the remaining 
half miles are equal to one another, although I had never heard of 
the axiom, " If equals are taken from equals, the remainders will 
be equal." 

3. If from a field, of an acre in extent, you take away half an 
acre, and throw it into an adjacent field, I have the most entire con- 
viction that the extent of the first field will be much less than it 
was before the division, without having recourse to the axiom, that 
*^ The whole is greater than a part." 

4. If you infer that something must have existed from eternity, 
because something now exists, your conviction is complete, before 
you reflect on, or perhaps know, the scholastic maxim, " Ex nihilo 
nihil sit," Nothing can produce nothing. 

5. If you are certain that the sun is above the horizon, you con- 
clude, with entire confidence, that he is not also below it, although 
you may be unacquainted with the axiom, ^' Bodies cannot be in dif- 
ferent places at the same time." 

6. If, having two lines, one half a mile, and the other a quarter 
uf a mile long, you a.dd to each a whole mile, you are perfectly sat- 
isfied that the new line, composed of the mile and the half mile, is 
longer than that composed of the mile and the quarter. Nor do 
you procure any additional conviction whatever from the applica- 
tion of the axiom, ^' If equals be added to unequals, the wholes will 
be unequal." 

Corol. From all these examples it is apparent, that axioms are 
general expressions of truths, obvious in particular cases included 
under general expressions. In a v/ord, an axiom is applicable when 
we have found, by other means than by its aid, that under it is com 
prehended the particular case about which we are reasoning. 



CHAP. II. Of Propositions. 231 

473. Rex\soning supports an exceedingly numerous class 
of propositions, more numerous than all the other kinds 
of evidence put together. But we do not now discuss its 
nature, nor explain the different degrees of evidence it sup- 
plies. 

Ohs. Almost all the propositions of science, most of those of the 
arts, and of business ; in a word, those propositions of all cases ir 
which the mind receives certain or probable conviction by the ex- 
ercise of its rational faculties, belong to this class : but we have al- 
ready explained the nature of these propositions under the differen! 
kinds of evidence by which they are supported, v^^hen we treated of 
the different kinds of evidence in Chapter XI. Book II. 

474. Testimony was the last source of knowledge, and 
the last species of evidence, which we purposed to explain. 
Testimony , founded in the trust which we repose in the ve- 
racity of our fellow creatures, and in their intercourse with 
one another, is of very extensive use. 

Illus. All the credit of history, all the intelligence of places, men, 
and things, we cannot in person examine ; all the security society 
can confer on life and property in courts of justice ; all the infor- 
mation of business and social life ) depend entirely on the opinion 
we have, that men will tell truth in their communications to one 
another. (See Art. 315 and 440.) In many cases, the evidence of 
testimony affords a high degree of satisfaction ; but the degrees of 
satisfaction decrease, till they degenerate into that equivocal state, 
m- which probability for and against truth are so equally poised, as 
to leave the mind in a state of suspense. (See Art. 315 and 439.) 

475. Two causes chiefly induce us to distrust the credi- 
bility of testimony, \st. suspicion that the relater was not 
fully informed ; or, 2^/y. that his interest might influence him 
to utter falsehood. The presence of either, or of both these 
causes, is a sufficient reason for hesitation. But where nei- 
ther takes place, we seem to have no reason to distrust the 
information of testimony. Truth is congenial to the mind 
of man. It is more easy to tell truth than to utter falsehood. 
It is not easy to utter falsehood with success. Some time 
must elapse before the mind can acquire those habits, and 
that composure, which are necessary to secure falsehood from 
the inconsistency and embarrassment which instantly pro- 
claim its baseness and its insincerity. [Art. 442.) 

llliis. Though the evidence of testimony cannot be deemed equiv- 
alent to that of demonstration, or to that of the senses, yet iii most 
cases it would be ridiculous to indulge the least suspicion. 

Example. That there are such cities as Paris, Rome, or Pekin, 



232 A Grammar of Logic, book iv. 

that Alexander conquered a great part of the western quarter of 
Asia, and that JuHus CsBsar was killed in the senate-house, are all 
facts of which we cannot entertain the smallest doubt. {Art. 309. 
ILlus. 2. and Example.) 

Corol. The conviction which we have of the truth of such facts is 
called certainty, and the impression made on the mind by the evi- 
dence of testimony in general, is termed belief. The impression 
which results from divine testimony, or the evidence of revelation, 
has obtained the name of faith. 

IV. Of Mathematical, Moral, Political, and Prudential 
Reasoning, 

476. All knowledge is either intuitive, demonstrative, or 
probable. Intuitive knowledge is extremely circumscribed, 
and reasoning therefore begins where intuition ends, and 
coiisists in finding out the truth of a proposition, or the 
agreement or disagreement of its subject and predicate, by 
the help of intermediate ideas. The intermediate ideas 
form the steps, or links, by which the mind passes from the 
first of the primary ideas to the last, or from the subject of 
any proposition to its predicate ; and finally perceives their 
relation. 

lllus. 1. Reasoning assumes different names, according to the 
nature of the steps, or of the links, which display the relation be- 
tween the primary ideas. Thus, if the mind attain complete satis- 
faction in every step of its progress, or in the successive compari- 
son of every pair of ideas, it is said to acquire certainty of the agree- 
ment or disagreement of the two primary ideas ; and the reasoning is 
called demonstrative. (See Art. 303, 304, and 305.) • 

2. If the agreement of the intermediate ideas with one another, 
and with the extremes, is not perfectly satisfactory, that is, if the 
steps of the reasoning leave the mind under some degree of hesita- 
tion, the reasoning is denominated probable; and the reasoner at- 
tains probability only of the truth of the proposition he investigates. 
Where certainty terminates, probability commences ; and the lat- 
ter admits numerous degrees, from the highest degree, which stands 
next to certainty, to the lowest, which makes so little impression, as 
to permit the mind to remain in a state of suspense. (See Art. 306 
and 307, with their Illustrations.) 

477. If a proposition, supported by probable evidence, re- 
late to speculation, the judgment formed concerning it is often 
called opinion; if it relate to facts, chiefly supported by 
testimony/, the judgment is generally called belief (See Art. 
278, with all its Illustrations and Examples.) 

Tilus. 1. In explaining, therefore, the branch of logic now before 
us, all we have to do, is, to reduce to practice, j/ir^^, the analysis we 
have given of demonstrative reasoning {Art. 303) ) secondly, thai 



CHAP. II. Of Propositions, 233 

of probable reasoning {Art. 306.) ; and point out the sciences and arts 
in which they are respectively employed. 

2. All reasoning is either of the one kind or the other; and in 
every science or art, in which conviction does not come up to cer- 
tainty, we must be content v/ith probability {Art. 303.) 

478. Mathematics and Arithmetic are the only sciences 
susceptible of demonstrative proof, which is so satisfactory 
and cogent as to exclude even the supposition of falsehood. 
[Art. 304.) Other sciences, in their principles, may per- 
haps furnish proofs nearly, if not completely demonstrative ; 
but in the detail they exhibit nothing better than probability. 
The high evidence of the science of quantity, independent 
of the importance of the truths which it teaches, renders 
them good exemplifications of the rules of logic ; and one 
of the best methods of becoming a good reasoner, is, to be 
familiar with the processes of investigation which they supply. 
(See the Illustrations and Examples to Art. 304.) 

Rlus. To reduce to practice demonstrative reasoning, we shall 
now analyze some propositions of the Elements of Euclid. Rea,son- 
ing is a successive comparison of every pair of ideas, from the first 
to the last, or from the idea which forms the subject of the proposi- 
tion, to the one which forms the predicate; and in demonstration 
every comparison is intuitively certain. When these ideas are 
found to agree, the demonstration is finished, and the reasoning is 
concluded. {Art. 298.) 

Example 1. Suppose we begin with the first proposition of the 
first book of the Elements, which proposes ^' To describe an equilat- 
eral triangle on a given straight line." Let us pass over the oj»e- 
rations by which the triangle in the figure is described, because we 
mean to analyze only the reasoning of the proposition. 

Argument. After the figure has been constructed on the given line, 
the proposition to be proved is, that ^^ The triangle so constructed 
is equilateral, or has all its sides equal." The subject of the propo- 
sition, or the first idea of it, is, that of the triangle described; the 
predicate of the proposition, or the second idea of it, is, that of the 
equality of the sides of the triangle. Now, it is not intuitively certain 
that the three sides are all equal to one another ; therefore some 
intermediate ideas must be placed between the subject and the pred- 
icate of the proposition, to show their agreement. The process 
consists of two steps; that is to say, one intermediate idea is necessary 
to prove the proposition. The first step is the comparison of the 
base A B* with one of the sides A C ; and of their equality we have 
intuitive certainty, because, by the description of the figure, they 
are radii of the same circle. The second step is the comparison of 
the same side A B, with the other side B C ; and of their equality, 
also, we have intuitive certainty, as they are both semi-diameters of 
another circle of the same radius with the former. This step finish- 



* See the Figure in Simson's Euclid. 

19 



234 A Gramma?' of Logic. book iv. 

es the demonstration. The base is found to agree with both the 
sides ; and the triangle must be equilateral^ because all the sides 
are equal ; the subject and predicate of the proposition are found ex- 
actly to agree. 

Example 2. in the forty-seventh proposition of the first book of 
the ElementSj the truth to be established is, '^ That in a right-angled 
triangle, the square of the side opposite to the right angle is equal 
in quantity to the sum of the squares of the other two sides." The 
square opposite to the right angle is the subject, the sura of the two 
other squares is the piredicate, and the idea of the extent of the first 
square is to be compared with the idea of the sum of the other two 
squares. 

Argument I. The first step is to prove, that G A C^ is one straight 
line, and H A B another, in order to lay a foundation for demonstra- 
ting that the triangle F B C is equal to half the square F A, and the 
triangle A B D equal to half the parallelogram B L. 

II. The next step is to prove the triangle A B D equal to the trian- 
gle F B C. 

III. The third step is to prove the triangle A B D equal to half 
the parallelogram B L, and the triangle F B C equal to half the 
square F A ; and hence to infer the equality of the square F A to the 
parallelogram B L. 

IV. Three similar steps are necessary to find the square A K 
equal to the parallelogram C L ) and hence to infer the equality of 
the whole square B E to the two squares F A and A K, which es- 
tablishes the agreement of the subject a,nd predicate of the proposition 3 
or that the square of the side opposite to the right angle, is equal to the 
squares of , the two other sides. 

Carol. To complete this process, then, there are necessary these 
six capital steps, and each of these includes one or more subordinate 
steps, so that the sum of the subordinate steps amounts to no fewer 
than twelve ; and if these are added to the six capital ones, it ap- 
pears, that, to prove this proposition, there are requisite eighteen 
intermediaie ideas. The mind has a clear and distinct perception of 
the agreement of every pair of ideas ; and the effect is proportional 
to the cause, for the mind obtains the most complete certainty of the 
truth of the proposition. 

479. All reasoning has this in common with demonstra- 
tion, that the agreement or disagreement of the primary 
ideas must be proved by intermediate ideas ; the difference 
is, that the agreement of the intermediate ideas with one 
another, and with their primary ideas, amounts not to cer- 
tainty ; it is no more than probable. 

Corol. From this view it will appear, that the far greater part of 
knowledge, and even the most interesting and important part, that 
wliich concerns morality, politics, the useful arts, and business, is 
not supported by better evidence than probability. (See Art. 
211.) The probability, however, in many cases is highly convincing. 



* See the Figure. 



CHAP. II, Of Propositions, 235 

approaches very near to certainty, and affords good grc und for act- 
ing upon it with perfect confidence and satisfaction. (See Corol. 
Art. 312.) 

480. That all men should revere their Maker, and per- 
form every duty which they conceive will be acceptable to 
him ; that they should do good to their fellow-creatures, and 
not wantonly hurt or injure them ; that they should live in 
temperance and moderation, in order to insure the highest 
happiness their constitutions can enjoy ; are all conclusions, 
the justness of which no one can doubt, any more, perhaps, 
than he can doubt that two and three make five ; or that the 
three angles of a triangle are equal to two right angles. 

Argument. The agreement of the idea which we have of man, 
with those ideas which we have of his Creator, and of his fellow- 
creatures, infers these duties with an evidence which nearly ap- 
proaches demonstration. But when we descend to investigate the 
nature of particular acts of regard to God, or of intercourse with 
our fellow-creatures, our scale applies inaccurately ; the agreement 
or disagreement of ideas is not perfectly clear ; and we are not cer- 
tain (at least we do not .agree) where regard to the Almighty ter- 
minates, and disregard begins ; where justice or charity ceases, and 
injustice or severity commences. 

Corol. Till this can be done, we have no reason to expect that 
the precepts of morality shall be supported by the evidence of demon- 
stration. (See Art. 353. Corol. 1 and 2.) 

481. The same species of reasoning applies to the evi- 
dence of other sciences, of arts, and of business. In them 
all, the mind discovers only moral certainty, that is, different 
degrees of probable evidence {Art. 354.), according as the 
agreement of ideas is more or less clear and satisfactory. 

Example 1. Suppose some reasoning were employed to recom- 
mend the love of God, or to prove this proposition — ^^ man ought to 
love God." The agreement of ideas in moral reasoning, we have 
formerly observed, relates to propriety, fitness, reasonableness. (Art. 
480.) The meaning, then, of the proposition will be, whether the 
idea we have of such an imperfect, dependent creature as man, 
agrees with the idea of his exerting love toward the great, wise, and 
good Being who made the universe, or whether it be fit, proper, and 
right, that man should love God. (See Art. 352. llhis. 1 , 2, 3.) 

Argument 1. To prove this proposition, a Theologian might 
employ several intermediate ideas ; he might first show that the 
Almighty is the most amiable Being in the universe, and that he 
possesses all those attributes of goodness, wisdom, and power, most 
calculated to excite attachment. The amiableness of God would 
thus involve a large collection of particulars, of subordinate ideas, 
which together would constitute what, in the science of morals, is de- 
nominated an arorument. 



U^O A Crrommar of Logic. book iv 

II. The Theologian might prove, secondly, that the love of God 
is the surest means of happiness to om'selves. It will communicate 
self-approbation, confidence in the wisdom of Providence, and the 
administration of human affairs; and will extirpate those anxieties 
and fears which haunt and distract weak and vicious men. The 
illustration of these topics, also, would include a great number of 
subordinate ideas, and would constitute another argument for the 
love of God. 

III. The Theologian might further insist that love to God is rea- 
sonable and proper, in return for the numerous instances of kind- 
ness, mercy, and love, which the Deity daily exerts towards us. 
The illustration of these instances, likewise, would comprehend many 
subordinate ideas, and would furnish a third argument in support of 
the proposition. (See Art. 294. Obs. and Example.) 

Example 2. Suppose, again, it were to be inferred from future 
punishment that '' Men must be free agents," or that '^ The idea of 
future punishment agrees with that of self-determination, or the free- 
dom of action." The following train of intermediate ideas will show 
that agreement. 

Argument I. Future punishment must be inflicted by the Almighty ; 
the Almighty can inflict no punishment that is not just; the punished 
of course must be guilty : they could, then, have done otherwise, and 
consequently must be free agents. 

II. This train of ideas, more shortly expressed, will stand thus : 
Future punishment — God the punisher — punishment just — punished 
guilty — could have done otherwise — self-determination. 

Corol. In this piece of reasoning there are four intermediate 
ideas, and five comparisons are made to discover the agreement with 
the extremes, and with oije another. The agreement between the 
adjacent ideas in every step, appears with a high degree of convic- 
tion ; and were each of the ideas illustrated at some length, accord- 
ing to the common mode of reasoning on moral topics, the whole 
would form an elegant deduction, and would communicate a very 
lively impression. 

Example 3. Let us suppose, further, that the following political 
proposition were proposed to be proved; and let us consider the 
nature of the reasoning requisite to establish it. ^^ Industry is the 
capital source of national prosperity." The ideas, or terms, as the 
Logicians express themselves, to be compared, are those of industry 
and national prosperity. 

Argument I. We must here remark, that agreement of ideas in 
politics refers, not to reasonableness and fitness, as in morals, but to 
public utility, or national happiness. The meaning, then, of the 
proposition is this, that industry makes a nation prosperous, by ex- 
tending its opulence, and exalting its reputation, in support of which 
we thus argue : — 

1. Industry increases the population of a country, by providing 
subsistence for additional inhabitants. 

2. An increase of inhabitants increases commerce and manufac- 
tures. 

3. Commerce and manufactures procure riches from foreign na- 
tions of less industry. 

4 These riches prompt a spirit of enterprise still further to eif- 



CHAP. II. Of Propositions, 237 

tend commerce and manufactures. Hence new nerves to domestic 
industry. 

5. The comforts, and many of the luxuries, of life are provided 
for all the members of the community. 

6. Ample security is found for the continuance of these advan- 
tages by the national reputation which they procure, and the large 
resources of money and of men that they supply to maintain that 
reputation. 

II. But national prosperity consists in these things which we have 
enumerated; — a wealthy, sober, industrious, and numerous people, 
respectable at home, and formidable abroad. Each of the steps 
might have been illustrated at considerable length, and might have 
formed a very pleasant and satisfactory discussion. 

III. They may also be condensed into more narrow bounds, and 
may form the following series ready for the nearest comparison : — 
National industry — increase of people — improvements in commerce 
and manufactures — national riches — national enterprise — people at 
home, numerous and happy, respectable and formidable abroad — 
national prosperity. 

Carol. This series presents five intermediate ideas; and six com 
parisons are requisite to afford conviction of the agreement of the 
first idea with the last, or of the subject of the proposition with it? 
predicate. 

482. In the Examples which we have advanced from Mor 
als and Politics, the Evidence, you will observe, though high- 
ly satisfactory, is still no more than probable, and does not 
appear with that commanding tone which compels assent. 
Skeptical men may find reason to suspend their assent, and 
disputatious men may raise difficulties, which we must admit 
are not destitute of foundation. [Art. 439, and 440.) 

Illus. Accordingly, against every step of the preceding political 
series, some doubt may be started. It may be argued, I. that in- 
dustry is not always attended with an increase of people ; it may even 
sometimes produce the contrary effect; it may induce the people 
to emigrate to other countries, where their labor will be better 
rewarded than at home. II. It may be urged, also, that the most 
warlike and powerful nations are often the poorest and the most 
hardy, while arts and industry only supply riches to tempt such 
adventurers to seize both the country and its wealth. III. It may, 
besides, be contended, that arts and industry enervate mankind, 
multiply their wants and vices, and render a people miserable in 
the midst of every provision for happiness ; that they repress all the 
great and splendid, and, consequently, many of the most pleasant 
exertions of the mind. 

Carol. It is the possibility of constructions of this sort, in all prob- 
able investigations, which diminishes their evidence, and renders the 
conviction which they produce inferior to demonstration. 

483. But how susceptible soever of controversy these 
specimens of Reasoning may be, they are much more satis- 

19* 



238 A Grammar of Logic. book, ir 

factory than are many of the conjectural estimations on 
which mankind every day act in some of the most important 
concerns of life. 

Rlus. Tlmsj many of the engagements which we form, and every 
new line of hfe on which we enter, involve numerous considerations 
to determine our conduct, — considerations which are scarcely sup- 
portend by better evidence than speculation. The wisdom of the 
prudent man is seldom more meritorious than the sagacity which 
leads him to conjecture with most probability, or v/hich teaches him 
to proceed with recollection and attention to surrounding objects, so 
as to avail himself of passing events. 

484. In our Reasonings of Anticipation, we proceed 
chiefly by Analogy. We suppose that the future will resemble 
the past. {Art. 315. Illus. 1, 2.) In the negotiations of 
business, and in forecasting the probable consequences of any 
plan of conduct, we must conclude, that similar causes will 
produce similar effects ; that men will act in time to come 
as they have done in time past ; and that the course of na- 
ture will proceed by the established rules which have di- 
rected it since the world began. 

nius. We argue fram the characters, the opinions, the interests, 
the passions, the weaknesses, and the caprices of men ; and we en- 
deavor to form systems of conduct for them, derived from the 
situations which they occupy. {Art. 349.) The trains of reason- 
ing which we adopt in such cases, are in a great measure hypo- 
thetical; and the probabihty of the evidence frequently is of the 
lowest kind. Conjectures often so counterbalance one another, as 
to leave the mind in a state of total suspense. {Art. 317. Illus., Ex- 
ample^ and Corol.) 

V. Different Species of Reasoning. 

485. In the different methods, in common use, of distrib- 
uting or arranging Ideas in different processes of reasoning, 
the Reasoning is said to be either direct or indirect. {Art. 
305. Illus. 1, 2, and Exam/pie.) In direct Reasoning, we 
prove a proposition in the manner which we have now ex- 
plained, by finding intermediate Ideas that show the agree- 
ment of the terms of which it consists. In indirect Rea- 
soning, we do not trace the agreement of the terms of a prop- 
osition ; it takes place only when the predicate of a propo- 
sition admits an alternative, and when either the predicate 
or the alternative must be true, or must agree with the sub- 
ject of the proposition, because they exhaust every case that 
can exist. We prove that the alternative cannot be true ; 
and therefore the predicate must be true. 



CHAP. II. Of Propositions, 239 

Example 1. Euclid lays down this proposition, ^^That a straight 
line J drawn at right angles from the extremity of a diameter, falls 
without the circle." 

Argument. No intermediate idea, it seems, occurred, by which 
he could deduce the proof directly from the nature of the circle, or 
of the perpendicular, or the extremity of the diameter. He pro- 
ceeds, therefore^ by indirect demonstration, and introduces an alter' 
native. The perpendicular must fall either without the circle, or 
within it. No third supposition can be made, relative to the man- 
ner of its falling ; for it cannot fall upon the circumference of the 
circle, except in one point. He proves that the alternative cannot 
be true, or that the perpendicular cannot fall within the circle. — 
The predicate, then, must be true, that the perpendicular falls without 
the circle. 

Example 2. Again, ^' The moon is either an opaque or a transpar- 
ent body." 

Argument. It is not transparent, because, if it were, it would trans- 
mit the rays of the sun when it comes between the sun and the 
earth ; and no eclipse of the sun could happen from the intervention 
of it between the sun and the earth. But this conclusion is contrary 
to truth, for such eclipse does happen. The alternative^ therefore, 
that the moon is a transparent body, must be false, and consequently 
the predicate must be true, that the moon is an opaque body. The 
refutation of the alternative is always pursued, till it terminates in 
some contradiction, falsehood, or absurdity : and on this accou'it 
indirect Reasoning is, by the Logicians, sometimes called •' Reductio 
ad absurdum." {Art. 305. Illus. 1.) 

486. It has often been disputed, whether indirect Rea- 
soning be less elegant and less satisfactory than direct Rea- 
soning ; but we observe that both convey truth with perfect 
evidence ; and when a reasoner has got possession of an in- 
direct proof, .he will not trouble himself much in searching 
for a direct one. It is, however, generally supposed, that 
Mathematicians never employ the former but in cases of ne- 
cessity, and when they cannot have recourse to the latter. 

Ohs. 1. The great number of beautiful specimens of demonstra- 
tion, of which their science is susceptible, may render them nice 
or delicate even about the elegance and manner of their reasonings ; 
but on other subjects, and in other sciences, when the mind is glad 
to reach truth on any terms, it will be satisfied with good indirect 
proof. It may, perhaps, be doubted, whether the charge of inele- 
gance is not the offspring of squeamishness and caprice, rather than 
of just taste. 

2. An indirect train of ideas is often long, but may be conjoined 
with as much clearness and propriety as a direct train. The step 
from the falsehood of the alternative to the truth of the predicate., is 
perfectly satisfactory, if not elegant; and it may be added, that indi- 
rect reasoning imparts variety to the nature of the proof. 

487. Reasoning, further, is said to proceed either a pri- 
ori^ ox a posteriori ; a distinction which relates entirely to 
cause and effect. 



240 A Grammar of Logic, book iv. 

1. In reasoning a priori , we begin with the cause, and infer from it 
the reality, or the species of the effect. 

II. In reasoning a posteriori^ we reverse this progress ; we begin 
with the effect, and reason backward from it to the establishment of 
the existence and the qualities of the cause. 

VI . Examples of Reasoning a Priori, 

488. Argument a priori proves or disproves the fact from 
the law, or the effect from the cause. Every argument a 
pi'io7'i may be reduced to a perfect syllogism, consisting of 
three propositions ; of which 

One announces the law either positively or negatively. 

Another compares the law with the fact to be proved; 
and 

The third affirms or denies the fact, from its conformity 
with, or its opposition to, the law. 

Example 1. If you maintain that the s<?>ul of man is a thinking 
principle, and therefore that it is immaterial, because matter cannot 
tliink ; and hence again infer, that it is immortal, because what is 
immaterial cannot die or be destroyed, you reason a priori; you 
deduce the effect from its cause, and prove the soul to be immortal 
Srom the nature of its constitution. {Art. 99. Corol. 1, 2, 3.) 

2. If, again, you argue, that the people who live fifteen degrees 
farther east than we, will have their day beginning and ending an 
hour sooner than ours ; that navigators who have sailed fifteen de- 
grees eastward will, of course, have lost an hour of our day, and will 
have gained an hour from the day of the people of that longitude ; 
that these navigators will experience a similar loss and gain, in point 
of time, for every fifteen degrees eastward on the face of the globe; 
and that, as they must pass through four-and-twenty times fifteen 
degrees in sailing round the globe, so, on returning home, they will 
calculate time a day sooner than their countrymen, because they 
have lost twenty-four hours of the time of their countrymen, in their 
■voyage. In this process, you reason a priori, because you deduce a 
curious fact, verified by experience from the figure of the earth, 
round which the navigation is performed. 

VII. Example of Reasoning a Posteriori, 

489. In reasoning a "posteriori, we argue from the Effect 
to the Cause, and conclude from the former the nature or 
existence of the latter. In other words, arguments a poste- 
riori prove, or disprove, the rule from the enumeration of 
particulars. Every argument a posteriori may be reduced 
to a syllogism, consisting of two propositions: 

One is Induction, or enumeration of facts ; 

The other affirms or denies the law from the concurrence, 



THAP. II. Of Propositions. 241 

or want of concurrence, in the particulars brought to estab- 
lish it. 

Example 1. From the wisdom, power, and goodness, discernible 
in all the works of nature, you infer, that there must be some wise, 
benevolent, and omnipotent cause, from which these effects pro- 
ceed. You cannot doubt of the effects, because you experience them 
every moment of your existence ; you can as little doubt that these 
effects must proceed from some cause, and that the cause must pos- 
sess the qualities conspicuous in the effects. 

2. Again, you observe, that the shadow of the earth projected on 
the face of the moon in a lunar eclipse, is of a circular form; and 
from this effect you justly infer, that the figure of the earth is round, 
because this figure only could produce such a shadow. 

490. In this volume there are numerous Specimens of 
both these methods of Reasoning ; but the pupil will find that 
Reasonings a priori are much circumscribed, because causes 
are seldom so well known as their effects. 

491. From effects, chiefly, we ascend to the knowledge of 
causes ; and on this account Reasoning a posteriori is much 
more frequent. It is much employed in inquiries into na- 
ture; it is the ground-work of the famous method of induc- 
tion for investigating natural knowledge, recommended in 
the "Novum Organum'' of Lord Bacon; and it is of fre- 
quent use in politics and morals. 

lllus. 1. The best way to obtain an acquaintance, both with the 
Author of nature and with the secondary causes which produce the 
effects we daily behold, is to survey with patience the effects 
themselves, because we have no means of information concerning the 
causes, except in this channel. 

2. In like manner, to understand the duties a man owes to his 
country, or to his neighbor, we must scrutinize his constitution, 
what forms the happiness of such a being, both as a member of so- 
ciety, and a moral agent; what are his mental faculties, and his 
bodily powers; his attachments, and antipathies; his gratifications, 
and his wants. In all these inquiries we begin from the effect, and 
ascend to the cause, or we reason a posteriori. 

VIII. Analytic and Synthetic Reasoning. 

492. The last distinction of Reasoning divides it into 
ANALYTIC and SYNTHETIC, and refers chiefly to mathematical 
Reasonings. 

I. Analysis forms an elegant method of investigating the legiti- 
macy of demonstrations. * 

II. Synthesis puts together the different steps after investigation, 
so as to make out a proof. 

III. Analysis begins with the predicate of a proposition, and flf^- 
cends from it to the subject. {Art. 493, and Example.) 



242 A Grammar of Logic. book iv 

IV. Synthesis takes the opposite course, begins with the subject 
and descends from it to the predicate, or it is the same thing with di- 
rect reasoning. {Art. 478. Example 1 and 2.) 

Rlus. 1. The ancients carried on analysis by means of mathemati- 
cal figures J algebra is the great instrument of modern analysis. 
Many examples of the ancient analysis are to be found in Apollo- 
nius Pergseus, De Sectione Rationis. Every treatise of algebra, but 
particularly that of Sir Isaac Newton, will furnish specimens of the 
modern analysis by letters or symbols. 

2. All the Demonstrations of the Elements of Euclid exhibit ex- 
amples of synthesis , and we need not produce any of them. 

IX. Example of Analytic Reasoning. 

493. The purpose of the Analysis is to try the legitimacy 
of an investigation, or to discover whether the intermediate 
ideas, by v^hich a mathematician suspects a demonstration 
may be accomplished, are sufficient for that purpose. He 
begins v/ith supposing, that the ideas are good media for 
demonstrating the proposition in question, and constructs 
his figure on that hypothesis. He supposes, further, the thing 
done that the problem requires, or the truth established w^hich 
a theorem proposes to prove. He sets out from the proposi- 
tion, and reasons backv^ard to the beginning of it; and if he 
encounter no contradiction, or terminate in no absurdity, he 
concludes the media to be pertinent and legitimate ; if he 
terminate in an absurdity or contradiction, he infers, that the 
media are improper, and that the synthetical demonstration 
will be inconclusive. 

Example. Were it required to analyze the first proposition of the 
first book of the Elements of Euclid, which proposes to describe an 
equilateril triangle on a given straight line, we would describe a 
triangle on the given line, and would suppose it equilateral. We 
would reason thus : — 

I. If the triangle be equilateral, then the making one end of the 
base a centre, and describing a circle with the length of that base as a 
radius, the circle will pass through the other extremity of the base, 
and the extremity of one of the sides ; so that the base and one of the 
sides must become radii of the same circle. 

II. If another circle be described from the other end of the base, 
with the same base taken as a radius, this circle will pass through 
the other extremities of the base and of the other side. The two 
circles, therefore, are equal, because their radii are so. This step 
finishes the analysis, and proves the media to be legitimate, because 
the reasoning backward has reached its principle, the equality of 
the two circles, from which the synthesis begins, or from which the 
truth of the proposition, that the triangle is equilateral, is demon- 
strated. 

494. Logicians mentici some other distinctions of Rea- 



CHAP. III. Of Sophistry. 243 

soning, which we shall briefly define, because they sometimes 
occur in conversation, but more frequently in books. 

495. When we argue from principles, or opinions, ad- 
mitted by the person with whom we reason, whether they be 
true or not in themselves, we are said to employ an argumcn- 
tum ad hominem. 

496. When we urge in our defence some eminent author- 
ity, which an antagonist is ashamed to oppose, we are said 
to employ an argumentum ad verecundiam. 

497. When we perplex or puzzle an adversary, we offer 
what is called argumentum ad ignorantiam. 



CHAPTER III. 

OF SOPHISTRY. 

498. From Truth nothing can really- follow but what is 
true: whensoever, therefore, we find a false conclusion 
drawn from premises which seem to be true, there must be 
some fault in the deduction or inference ; or else one of the 
premises is not true in the sense in which it is used in that 
argument. 

When an argument carries the face of truth with it, and 
yet leads us into mistake, it is a sophism ; and there is no 
need of a particular description of these fallacious arguments 
that we may, with more ease and readiness, detect and solve 
them. 

499. Logicians have divided sophistry also into different 
kinds ; the most remarkable of which it will be proper to 
specify, because they are very common. 

500. The first is called Ignoratio Elenchi, and con- 
sists in mistaking or misrepresenting the state of the ques- 
tion under discussion. This species occurs in most contro- 
versies, but particularly in political ones, which now chiefly 
engage men of learning and ability. Religious and philo- 
sophical controversies have, fortunately for the peace of so- 
ciety, almost totally disappeared. 

lllus. The moment a writer engages in controversy, in spite of all 
the attention he can maintain, partialities lay hold of his mind; his 
passions warp and mislead his understanding. (See Art. 427, and all 
its Illustrations.) He reads the performances of his antagonist under 
the influence of dispositions which induce him to mistake their 



244 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

meaning. (Art. 449, and all its Illustrations.) He discovers malevo- 
lent or insiaious designs, which are perceptible by nobody but him- 
self; and he imputes principles and views to his opponent, which 
the latter never entertained nor disavowed. {Art. 435, and its Illustra- 
tions.) He introduces principles and views of his own, and he rea- 
sons and speculates about them as if they were admitted by the 
opposite party. (See Art. 437, and all its Illustrations.) 

501. Another species of Sophistry is called petitio prin- 
CTPii (a supposition of wliat is not granted), and consists in 
assuming as true the proposition under debate. 

IlLvs. Few men are so void of discernment, or so destitute of del- 
icacy and regard to truth, as confidently to maintain what they have 
not attempted to prove ; and hence this species of sophistry is not 
frequent in business. In philosophical and political investigations, 
in which, on account of the intricacy or uncertainty of the subjects, 
disputants take more liberty of obtruding their opinions upon their 
antagonists, or presume more readily that assertion may be admitted 
for a proof, the sophistry petitio principii, or ^' begging the question," is 
exceedingly frequent. 

502. The Peripatetics, by the following manifest petitio 
principii, pretend to prove, that the centre of the earth is 
the centre of the universe. 

Sophism. " All bodies must move towards the centre of the uni- 
verse ; but we find from experience, that all bodies move towards the 
centre of the earth ; therefore the centre of the earth is the centre of 
the universe." 

Analysis. This argument proves nothing ; for, although we allow 
that all bodies with which we are acquainted, move towards the 
centre of the earth, it does not thence follow that all bodies in the 
universe move towards the centre of the earth. The truth is, that 
a body near the surface of the earth moves towards it only by the 
difference of attraction exerted by the earth above the other great 
bodies in nature ; that all the bodies in the solar system are attract- 
ed towards a point near the surface of the sun; and that all the 
bodies of our solar system, and perhaps of all the systems of the 
universe, are attracted towards some other point, which is the cen- 
tre of the whole, but not surely the centre of the earth. 

503. Sophistry frequently appears in arguing from one 
particular to another, or inferring general conclusions from 
particular cases. The Logicians call this species a *' dicto 
secundum quid, ad dictum simpliciter," as, That v^rhich is 
bought in the shambles is eaten for dinner; raw meat is 
bought in the shambles ; therefore raw meat is eaten for din- 
ner. The argument of the Epicureans of old, to prove the 
gods of human shape, will pertinently illustrate this sort of 
sophistry. 

Example 1. They maintained that the human form was the most 
beautiful of all those with which men were acquainted, or of which 



OHAP. III. Of Sophistry, 245 

they had any conception, but the most beautiful form is always 
supposed to belong to the gods, the best of beings in the universe •; 
it was, therefore, reasonable to conclude, that they were endued with 
the human form. 

Analysis. 'No -connection subsists between the nature of man and 
that of the gods^ to induce us to believe the gods must possess the 
shape of men ; and we cannot infer, because the figure of man is 
the most beautiful with which we are acquainted, that, therefore, 
the form of the gods, admitting them to have some form, cannot 
be more beautiful than the human. The argument that the form 
of a pine-apple, being the most beautiful, perhaps, of vegetable 
forms, is also the form of the gods, would be equally conclusive, 
being a rare inference from one particular to another, between which 
there is no relation 5 or, in other words, between particulars which 
have nothing in common, whence such an inference can possibly 
be deduced. 

Example 2. Should we, again, conclude, from the foolish or in- 
iquitous behavior of some individuals, of a numerous order of men, 
that all the order are fools or rogues. 

3. Or, from the unwholesomeness or bad taste of some sort of 
animal and vegetable food, that all sorts are unwholesome or un- 
pleasant. 

4. Or, because many bad kings and magistrates have been in the 
world, that all kings and magistrates are bad men ; in each of these 
cases you would argue from premises insufficient to support your 
inference, because you extend the latter much farther than the for- 
mer^ and suppose that there are no exceptions where there may 
be thousands of exceptions. 

504. This illegitimate and illiberal logic frequently ap- 
pears in the intercourse of society, when all the connections, 
the family, the friends, and the order of an impudent or a 
criminal person are branded with the improprieties and the 
errors of which he only has been guilty ; while they enter- 
tain, perhaps, a more lively disapprobation of his conduct 
than those who load them with reproach. 

Rlus. 1. Should you boldly declare that all the people of England 
in the time of Charles I. were murderers because ^ junto of bloody- 
minded men put him to death ; that all the people of France were 
regicides because a few voted for the death of Louis XVI. ) that all 
the people of the United States of America were unprincipled ty- 
rants and assassins, because General Jackson put Arbuthnot and 
Ambrister, British subjects, to death on false accusations and prin- 
ciples of policy, which the laws of nations do not recognize ; — you 
would display the spirit we have now in view. 

2. It is, indeed, difficult to decide whether such a spirit is more 
characteristic of cruelty or want of candor. It is cruel, for it dis- 
plays a strong disposition to criminate the innocent, and to pour 
into delicate and honorable minds that pungent vexation which re- 
suits from the loss of reputation, under a consciousness of having 
done nothing to deserve such a misfortune. It is void of candor, 

20 



246 A Grammar of Logic, book iv. 

because no intercourse has subsisted between the culprit and the 
party accused, which can authorize any inference of blame from the 
one to the other ; and it is not a little uncandid to deduce an infer- 
ence without premises, or contrary to those laid down. 

505. Numerous errors and much false reasoning result 
from forming hypothesLi, to account for the phenomena of 
nature, or the actions of men, without endeavoring to inves- 
tigate the true causes of these phenomena, and the motives 
of those actions from the effects which they produce. This 
species of sophistry the Logicians call Causam assigmare 
qucB causa non est, To assign that as a cause ivhich is not 
the cause : or, as Dr. Watts has it, non causa pro causa 
— or the assignation of a false cause. Philosophers and 
speculative politicians have been most prone to indulge in 
this kind of ratiocination, and many curious examples of it 
are to be found in physical books, and in real life. (See 
Chap. III. Book I.) 

Example 1. All the heavenly bodies, says Aristotle, in his Physi-cs, 
must move in circles, because a circle is the most perfect of all figures, 
and because bodies moving in such figures meet with least resistance. 
The great philosopher does not tell us how he knew that the circle 
is the most perfect of all figures, and that bodies moving in circles 
meet with least resistance. Both these reasons are mere supposi- 
tions, contrary to truth, as well as the opinion that the heavenly bod- 
ies move in circles, which, by a little observation, he might have 
found to be erroneous. 

2. To support the hypothesis he had adopted, concerning the 
eternity and perfection of the world, the same philosopher offers 
the following singular ratiocination. The world is a perfect pro- 
duction, because it is composed of bodies', and bodies are perfect 
magnitudes, because they consist of three dimensions, length, breadth, 
and thickness, and cannot admit of more. Lines are not perfect 
'magnitudes, because they have length only, which may easily be 
made to move into a surface. Surfaces are not perfect magnitudes, 
because they have only length and breadth, which may easily be 
made to move into a solid." Now all this reasoning is mere conjec- 
ture, relating to the qualities only of magnitudes, and not in the 
least to their merits. 

3. The occult qualities of the same author, and his followers, are 
not more satisfactory sources of natural knowledge. The pulse 
beats — the loadstone points to the pole — tartar is emetic — poppy 
produces sleep ; because there is a beating quality in the pulse, an 
attractive quality in the loadstone, an emetic quality in tartar, and a 
soporifid quality in poppy. Such philosophizing resembles the play 
of children, or the ridicule of empirics, rather than the serious in- 
vestigation of grave inquirers after truth ; and it furnishes an humili- 
ating pictu re of the progress of natural philosophy among the ancients, 
(See Art. "'% and Corol.) 



CHAP. III. Of Sophistry. 247 

506. The moderns, as well as the ancients, fall often into 
this fallacy, when they positively assign the reasons of natu- 
ral appearances, without sufficient experiments to prove 
them. 

Illus. 1. Astrologers are overrun with this species of fallacy, and 
they cheat the people grossly by pretending to tell fortunes, and to 
deduce the cause of the various occurrences in the lives of men 
from the various positions of the stars and planets, which they call 
aspects. When comets and eclipses of the sun and moon a«e con- 
strued to signify the fate of princes, the revolution of states, famine, 
wars, and calamities of all kinds, it is a fallacy that belongs to this 
rank of sophisms. 

2. There is scarce any thing more common in human life than this 
sort of deceitful argument. If any two accidental events happen to 
occur, one is presently made the cause of the other. 

Ezample. If Titius wronged his neighbor of a guinea, and iji six 
months ffter, he fell down and broke his leg, weak men will impute it 
to the divine vengeance on Titius for his former injustice. This 
sophism was found also in the early days of the world ; for when holy 
Job was surrounded with uncommon miseries, his own friends inferred, 
that he was a most heinous criminal, and charged him with aggravated 
guilt, as the cause of his calamities ; though God himself, by a voice 
from heaven, solved this uncharitable sophism, and cleared his servant 
Job of that charge. 

Obs. How frequent is it among men to impute crimes to persons 
not actually chargeable with them ! We too often charge that upon 
the wicked contrivance and premeditated malice of a neighbor, 
which arose merely from ignorance, or from an unguarded temper. 
And on the other hand, w^hen we have a mind to excuse ourselves, 
we practise the same sophism, and charge that upon our inadvertence 
or our ignorance, which, perhaps, was designed wickedness. What is 
really done by a necessity of circumstances, we sometimes impute to 
choice. And again, we charge that upon necessity which was really 
desired and chosen. 

507. The next species of sophism is called fallacia-acci- 
dentis, or a sophism wherein we pronounce concerning the 
nature and essential properties of any subject according to 
something which is merely accidental to it. This is akin to 
the former, and is also very frequent in human life. 

Example 1. So, \f opium or the Peruvian bark has been used im- 
prudently or unsuccessfully, whereby the patient has received inju- 
ry, some weaker people absolutely pronounce against the use of the 
bark or the opium upon all occasions whatsoever, and are ready to 
call them poison. 

2. So wine has been the accidental occasion of drunkenness and 
quarrels ; learning and printing may have been the accidental cause 
of sedition in a state ; the reading of the Bible, by accident, has bee n 
abused to promote heresies, or destructive errors; and for these rea- 
sons they have all been pronounced evil things. Mahomet forbado 



5243 A Grammar of Logic, book iv 

Ills followers the use of wine ; the Turks discourage learning in their 
dominions ; and at one time the Scripture was forbidden to be read 
by the Laity. But how very unreasonable are these inferences, and 
these prohibitions which are built upon them ! 

508. The next species of sophistry is reasoning in a 
CIRCLE ; or the assuming of one proposition to prove another, 
and then resting the proof of the first on the evidence of the 
second. The Protestant theologians accuse the v^riters of 
the cjjiurch of Rome of committing such blunders. ''■ The 
Papal theologians " (say both the Protestant logicians, Watts 
and Barron) '' first prove the divine authority of their church 
from the Holy Scriptures, and then they employ the infalli- 
bility of the Pope to confirm their interpretation of the 
Scriptures. They establish the infallibility of the Pope by 
the testimony of the senses, and they employ the same in- 
fallibility to destroy the testimony of the senses, when their 
antagonists remonstrate against the credibility of the doc- 
trine of transubstantiation." 

509. The sophisms of composition and division come 
next to be mentioned. 

Illus. 1. The sophism of composition is when we infer any thing 
concerning ideas in a compounded sense, which is only true in a di- 
vided sense. 

Exam.ple 1. And when it is said in the gospel that Christ made 
the blind to see, and the deaf to hear, and the lame to walk, we ought 
not to infer hence that Christ performed contradictions; but those 
who were blind before, were made to see, and those who were deaf 
before, were made to hear, &c. So, when the Scripture assures us, 
the worst of sinners may be saved, it signifies only, that they who have 
been the worst of sinners may repent and be. saved, not that they 
shall be saved in their sins. Or, if any one should argue thus, Two 
and three are even and odd : five are two and three, therefore five are 
even and odd. Here, that is very falsely inferred concerning two or 
three in union, which is only true of them divided. 

Illus. 2. The sophism of division is when we infer the same thing 
concerning ideas in a divided sense, which is only true in a com- 
pounded sense ; as if we should pretend to prove that every soldier in 
the Grecian army put a hundred, thousand Persians to fiight, because 
the Grecian soldiers did so. Or, if a man should argue thus, Five is 
one number ; two and three are five ; therefore two and three are one 
number. 

Obs. This sort of sophism is committed when the word all is taken 
in a collective and a distributive sense, without- a due distinction ; as 
if any one should reason thus : All the musical instruments of the 
Jewish temple made a, noble concert ; the harp teas a musical instru- 
ment of the Jewish temple ; therefore the harp made a noble concert. 
Here the word all, in the major, is collective, whereas such a con- 
clusion requires that the word all should be distributive. 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism, 249 

It is the same fallacy when the universal word all or no refers to 
species in one proposition, and to individuals in another ) as, All ani- 
mals were in Noah's ark ; therefore no animals perished in the flood ; 
whereas in the premise all animals signifies every kind of animals ^ 
which does not exclude or deny the drowning of a thousand indi- 
viduals. 

510. The last sort of sophisms arises from our abuse of the 
ambiguity of words, which is the largest and most extensive 
kind of fallacy ; and indeed several of the former fallacies 
might be reduced to this head. 

When the words or phrases are plainly equivocal, they are 
called sophisms of equivocation ; as if we should argue thus : 
He that sends forth a book into the light, desires it to be 
read: he that throws a book into the fire, sends it into the 
light ; therefore he that throws a booh into the fire desires it 
to be read. 

This sophism, as well as the foregoing, and all of the like 
nature, are solved by showing the different senses of the 
words, terms, or phrases. Here light in the major proposi- 
tion signifies the public view of the world; in the minor it 
signifies the brightness of flame and fire ; and therefore the 
syllogism has four terms, or rather it has no middle term, and 
proves nothing. 

But where such gross equivocations and ambiguities ap- 
pear in arguments, there is little danger of imposing upon 
ourselves or others. The greatest danger, and which we 
are perpetually exposed to in reasoning, is where the two 
senses or significations of one term are near akin, and not 
plainly distinguished, and yet they are really sufficiently 
different in their sense to lead us into great mistakes if we 
are not watchful. 



CHAPTER IV. 

OF REASONING AND SYLLOGISM. 

511. If the mere conception and comparison of two ideas 
would always show us whether they agree or disagree, then 
all rational propositions would be matters of intelligence, or 
first principles, and there would be no use of reasoning, or 
drawing any consequences. It is the narrowness of the hu- 
man mind which introduces the necessity of reasoning. 
20* 



*250 A Granimar of Logic, book iv 

When we are unable to judge of the truth or falsehood of a 
proposition in an immediate manner, by the mere contem- 
plation of its subject, and predicate, we are then constrained 
to use a medium, and to compare each of them with some 
third idea, that, by seeing how far they agree or disagree 
with it, we may be able to judge how far they agree or disa- 
gree among themselves. 

Example 1. If there are two lines, A and B^ and I know not whether 
they are equal or not, I take a third Hne C, or an inch, and apply it to 
each of them ; if it agree with them both, then I infer that ^ and B 
are equal ; but if it agree with the one and not with the other, then I 
conclude that A and B are unequal : if it agree with neither of them, 
there can be no comparison. 

2. So, if the question be, whether God must be worshipped, we seek 
a third idea, suppose the idea of a Creator, and say, 

Our Creator must be worshipped; 

God is our Creator; 

Therefore, God must be worshipped. 

Illus. 1. The comparison of this third idea with the two distinct 
parts of the question, usually requires two propositions, which are 
called the premises.; the third proposition which is drawn from 
them is the conclusion, wherein the question itself is answered, and 
the subject and predicate joined either in the negative or the af- 
firmative. 

2. The foundation of all affirmative conclusions is laid in this gen- 
eral truth. That so far as two proposed ideas agree to any third idea, 
they agree also among themselves. The character of Creator agrees 
to God, and worship agrees to a Creator; therefore worship agrees 
to God. 

3. The foundation of all negative conclusions is this. That where 
one of the two proposed ideas agrees with the third idea, and the 
other disagrees with it, they must needs disagree so far also with one 
another ; as, if no sinners are happy, and if angels are happy, then 
angels are not sinners. 

Corol. Thus it appears what is the strict and just notion of a sylto- 
gism : it is a sentence or argument, or a step of an argument, made 
up of three propositions, so disposed, as that the last is necessarily in- 
ferred from those which go before, as in the instances which have 
been just mentioned. 

I. Of the Constitution of Syllogisms, 

512. In the constitution of a syllogism two things may be 
considered, viz, the matter and the form of it. 

I. The matter of which a syllogism is made up, is, three proposi- 
tions ; and these three propositions are made up of three ideas or terms 
variously joined. 

II. The three terms are called the remote matter of a syllogism ; and 
the three propositions the proxime or immediate matter of it. 



CUAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 251 

513. The three terms are named the major, the minor^ 
and the middle. 

1. The predicate of the conclusion is called the major term, because 
it is generally of a larger extension than the m'nior term, or the subject. 
The major and minor terms are called the extremes. 

II. The middle term is the third idea, invented and disposed in two 
propositions, in such a manner as to show the connection between the 
major and minor term in the conclusion ; for which reason the middle 
term itself is sometimes called the argument. 

514. That proposition which contains the predicate of the 
conclusion, connected with the middle term, is usually called 
the major proposition, whereas the minor proposition con- 
nects the middle term with the subject of the conclusion, and 
is sometimes called the assumption. 

JVote I. This exact distinction of the several parts of a syllogism, 
and of the major and minor terms connected with the middle term 
in the major and minor propositions, belongs chiefly to simple or cate- 
gorical syllogisms, of which we shall speak by and bye (Art. 622.), 
though all syllogisms whatsoever have something analogical to it. 

2. That the raajor proposition is generally placed first, and the 
ininor second, and the conclusion in the last place, where the syllogism 
is regularly composed and represented. 

515. The form of a syllogism is the framing and dispo- 
sing of the premises according to art, or just principles of 
reasoning, and the regular inference of the conclusion from 
them. 

516. The act of reasoning, or inferring one thing from 
another, is generally expressed and known by the particle 
therefore, when the argument is formed according to the 
rules of art ; though, in common discourse or writing, such 
caz^^a/ particles as /br, 6eca2/5e, manifest the act of reasoning 
as well as the illative particles then and therefore ; and 
wheresoever any of these words is used, there is a perfect 
syllogism expressed or implied, though perhaps the three 
propositions do not appear, or are not placed in regular form. 

517. Each proposition possesses quantity and quality. 
By quantity is meant, that it is universal or particular ; by 
quality, that it is an affirmative or negative. 

Illus. 1. An universal proposition {£rt. 469. Rlus. 1.) includes a 
whole genus, or a whole species, and affirms or denies something of 
them. The major proposition of the following syllogism is an exam- 
ple ; as, 

" All animals are mortal ; 
Man is an animal ; 
Therefore, man is mortal." 



252 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

'^ All animals are mortal," is an universal affirmative proposition. 
Mortality is affirmed of the whole genus of animals. 

^^ No animal can live without food/' is an universal negative propo- 
sition. 

2. A particular proposition includes only a part of a genus or of a 
species, and affirms or denies something of it. (Illus. 2. Art. 469.) 
Accordingly, '^ Some animals are long lived," is a particular affirma- 
tive proposition. •• Some animals are not endowed with reason," is a 
particular negative proposition. 

Corol. 1. Hence it appears that four sorts of propositions only can 
enter a syllogism ; or, in other words, that syllogisms are divided into 
four kinds, either according to the question which is proved by them, 
according to their own nature and composition, or according to the 
middle term, which is used to prove the question. They must be 
either universal affirmatives^ or universal negatives, particular affii'ma- 
tiveSy or particular negatives. 

2. The general principle upon which these universal and particular 
syllogisms are founded, is this. Whatsoever is affirmed or denied uni- 
versally of any idea, may be affirmed or denied of all the particular 
kinds or beings, which are contained in the extension of that univer- 
sal idea. 

J{ote. In the doctrine of syllogisms, a singular and an indefinite 
proposition are ranked among universals. 

518. These four sorts of propositions, for the convenience 
of distinguishing them, are denominated by the four following 
vowels, a, e, i, o. (Art. 536.) 

A signifies universal affirmative ; e, universal negative ; 
i, particular affirmative ; and o, particular negative. To as- 
sist the memory, these vowels and their properties are formed 
into the two following monkish verses : 

Asserit e negat a, sed universaliter ambae. 
Asserit i negat o, sed particulariter ambae. 

Scholia 1. We have now seen, that although a syllogism consists 
of three propositions, it contains only three ideas, which are called 
terms, each of which is twice repeated, to makeup the propositions. 
{.^rt. 511.) 

2. That one of these ideas, which is always the predicate of the 
conclusion, is called the major term ; another, the minor term, which 
is always the subject of the conclusion ; and the third, the middle term. 
{Art. 513.) 

3. The reasoning of the syllogism lies in pointing out the agree- 
ment or disagreement of the major and minor terms, by comparing 
them with the middle term. {Art. 517.) 

4. The middle term never appears in the conclusion, or third prop- 
osition ; — it is compared successively with the major and minor 
terms in the two first propositions, or premises, as they are sometimes 
called. It is twice repeated in the premises ; it may be either the 
predicate of the major premise, and the subject of the minor ; or it 
may be the subject of the major premise, and predicate of the minor , 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 253 

In like manner, both the major and minor terms stand once in each 
premise, and they are both repeated in the conclusion. 

Example. In the syllogism formerly quoted (Art. 517.), the minor 
term is man, the major term is mortal^ the middle term is animal. 
In the first premise, '^ all animals are mortal," the irdddle term/ an- 
imal, is compared with the major term, mortal. Animal is the sub- 
ject ; mortal is the predicate ] and it is affirmed or predicated of all 
animals, that they are mortal. In the second premise, ^' man is an 
animal," man, the minor term, is compared with animal, the middle 
term ; and it is affirmed or predicated of man, that he is an animal. 
The middle term, animal, is the subject of the former premise, and 
the predicate of the latter. In the conclusion, '^ man is mortal," the 
minor term, man, is inferred to agree with the major term, mortal, 
because, in the premises, they were both found to agree with the same 
middle term, animal. 

II. Of plain, simple Syllogisms, and their Rules. 

519. The next division of syllogisms is into single and 
compound. This is drawn from their nature and compo- 
sition. 

520. Single syllogisms are made up of three propositions : 
compound syllogisms contain more than three propositions, 
and may be formed into two or more syllogisms. 

521. Single syllogisms, for distinction's sake, may be 
divided into* simple, complex, and conjunctive. 

522. Those are properly called simple or categorical syl- 
logisms, which are made up of three plain, single or cate- 
gorical propositions, wherein the middle term is evidently 
and regularly joined with one part of the question in the ma- 
jor proposition, and with the other in the minor, whence 
there follows a plain single conclusion ; as, every human 
virtue is to he sought loith diligence ; prudence is human 
virtue ; therefore prudence is to he sought diligently. 

Obs. Though the terms of propositions may be complex, yet, where 
the composition of the whole argument is thus plain, simple, and reg- 
ular, it is properly called a simple syllogism, since the complexion 
does not belong to the sjdlogistic form of it. 

523. Simple syllogisms have several rules belonging to 
them, which, being observed, will generally secure us from 
false inferences : .but these rules are founded on four gen- 
eral axioms. 

524. Axiom 1. Particular propositions are contained in 
universals, and may be inferred from them ; but universals 



^ As ideas and propositions are divided into single and compound, and sin- 
gle are subdivided into simple and compleXj so there are the same divisions 
and subdivisions applied to syllogisms. 



254 A Grammar of Logic, book iv. 

are not contained in particulars, nor can they be inferred 
from them. 

525. Axiom 2. In all universal propositions, the subject 
is universal : in all particular propositions, the subject is 
particular. 

526. Axiom 3. In all affirmative propositions, the predi- 
cate has no greater extension than the subject ; for its 
extension is restrained by the subject, and therefore it is 
always to be esteemed as a particular idea. It is by mere 
accident, if it be ever taken universally, and cannot happen 
but in such universal or singular propositions as are recip- 
rocal. 

527. Axiom 4. The predicate of a negative proposition is 
always taken universally, for in its whole extension it is 
denied of the subject. If we say, no stone is vegetable, we 
deny all sorts of vegetation concerning stones. 

The Rules of simple, regular Syllogisms are these : 

528. Rule I. The middle term must not be taken twice 
particularly, but once at least universally. For if the middle 
term be taken from two diiferent parts or kinds of the same 
universal idea, then the subject of the conclusion is com- 
pared with one of these parts, and the predicate with 
another part, and this will never show whether that subject 
and predicate agree or disagree : there will then be four 
distinct terms in the syllogism, and the two parts of the 
question will not be compared with the same third idea ; as, 
if I say, some men are pious, and some men are robbers, I 
can never infer that som£ robbers are pious, for the middle 
'erm, men, being taken twice particularly, it is not the same 
men who are spoken of in the major and minor propositions. 

529. Rule II. The terms in the conclusion must never be 
taken more universcdly than they are in the premises. The 
reason is derived from the first axiom [Art. 524.), that gen- 
erals can never be inferred from particulars. 

530. Rule III. A negative conclusion cannot be proved, 
by tioo affirmative premises. For when the two terms of 
the conclusion are united, or agree to the middle term, it 
does not follow by any means that they disagree from one 
another. 

531. Rule IV. If one of the premises be negative, the con 
elusion must be negative For if the middle term be denied 
of either part of the conclusion, it may show that the terms 
of the conclusion disagree, but it can never ^how that the) 
agree. 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 255 

532. Rule V. If either of the premises be partieular, the 
conclusion must be particular. This may be proved for the 
most part from the first axiom. 

Obs. These two last ru'cs are sometimes united in this single sen- 
tence — The conclusion always follows the weaker part of the premises. 
Now negatives and particulars are counted inferior to affirmatives 
and universals. 

533. Rule VI. From two Negative Premises nothing can 
be concluded. For they separate the middle term both from 
the subject and predicate of the conclusion, and when two 
ideas disagree to a third, we cannot infer that they either 
agree or disagree with each other. 

Ohs. Yet where the negative is a part of the middle term, the two 
premises may look like negatives according to the words, but one 
of them is affirmative in sense : as, What has no thought cannot rea- 
son ; but a worm has no thovght; therefore a. worm cannot reason. 
The minor proposition does really affirm the middle term concern- 
ing the subject, namely, a ivorm is what has no thought, and, thus, 
it is, properly, in this syllogism, an affirmative proposition. 

534. Rule VII. From two Particular Premises nothing 
can be concluded. This rule depends chiefly on the first 
axiom. 

III. Of the Modes and Figures of Simple Syllogisms. 

535. The figure of a syllogism is the proper disposition 
of the middle term, with the parts of the question. 

Rlus. The middle term may be the subject of the major premise, 
and the predicate of the minor, when the syllogism is of the first ^ 
figure (see Art. 543) ; 

Or it may be the predicate of both premises, which makes the 
syllogism of the second figure (see Art. 544) ; 

Or it may be the subject of both premises, when the syllogism 
will be of the third figure (see Art. 545) ; 

Or it may be the predicate of the major premise, and the subject 
of the minor, when the syllogism will be of the fourth figure. 

Corol. As the middle term never appears in the conclusion, and 
must appear twice in the premises, it will appear, that these four 
are all the positions of which it is susceptible; and consequently 
that the number of figures must also he four. 

JVote. The examples of each figure are deferred till we shall have 
explained the meaning of mode, when the same examples will serve 
to illustrate both figures and modes. 

536. All syllogisms are composed of four sorts of propo- 
sitions ; universal affirmatives, or universal negatives ; 
particidar affirmatives, or particular negatives ; and these 
popositions are discriminated by the vowels a, e, i, o. {Ai^t, 



256 A Grammar ef Logic, book tv. 

518.) Now the mode of a syllogism is determined by the 
species of the propositions of which it is composed. 

Illus. 1. These species may be THREE «^7ii??e?'5a^Z tf-^7*maiz^e5, marked 
by THREE «'s ; 

Or THREE universal negatives^ marked by three e's ; 

Or THREE particular affirmatives, marked by three i's; 

Or THREE particular negatives, marked by three o's ; 

Or they may be two universal affirmatives, and one universal nega- 
tive, marked by two ^'s and one e ; 

Or TWO universal affirmatives, and one particular affirmative, 
marked by two «'s and one i ; 

Or TWO universal affirmatives, and one particular negative, marked 
by TWO ft's and one o. 

2. Each of these combinations makes a Mode ; and there may be 
as many modes in each figure, as there are possible combinations of 
the four vowels. It is found by computation, that the number of 
possible combinations is no fewer than sixty -four for each figure, so 
that all the four figures will furnish two hundred and fifty-six modes. 

537. But of these possible modes, a few only form legiti- 
mate syllogisms. The first figure has no more than four 
conclusive modes ; one consisting of three universal propo- 
sitions, denoted by three a's, to which the schoolmen have 
given the name of Barbara, because it contains the vowel a 
three times. 

538. A second, consisting of an universal major propo- 
sition, an universal affirmative minor proposition, and an 
universal negative conclusion, denoted by the vowels e, a, e, 
to which has been given the name of Celarent, because the 
vowels of this mode form the vowels of that word. 

539. A third, containing an universal affirmative major 
proposition, a particular affirmative minor proposition, and 
a particular affirmative conclusion, denoted by the letters 
a, i, i, out of which is formed the word Darii, for the name 
of this mode. 

540. A fourth, consisting of an universal negative major 
premise, and a particular affirmative minor premise, and a 
particular negative conclusion, marked by the vowels e, i, o, 
\S which has been formed the word Ferio, for the name of 
the last mode. 

541. In the second figure are found also four conclu- 
sive modes ; and the quantity and quality of their propor- 
tions will be readily comprehended from their names, in 
which, as in the preceding figure, the vowels only are sig-r 
nificant. Cesare is the name of the first mode ; Camestres^ 
of the second ; Festino, of the third ; Baroco^ of the fourth 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism, 257 

542. The THIRD FIGURE has six modes, denoted by the 
hard words, Darapti, Felapton, Disamis, Datisi, Bocardo, 
Ferison . 

Corol. Hence it appears that all the legitimate modes of the three 
first figures are no more than fourteen. The names of these modes 
and figures were, to aid the memory, formed by the schoolmen into 
the following barbarous hexameters : — 

Barbara, Celarent, Darii, Ferlo, dato primae ; 
Cesare, Camestres, Festino, Baroco. secundae ; 
Tertia grande sonans recitat Darajjti, FeJapton; 
Adjungens Disamis, Datisi, Bocardo, Ferison. 
Note. Aristotle has not treated separately of the modes of the fourth 
figure, because he found they could be reduced to those of the former 
figures. We follow his example. 

543. We shall now offer some examples to illustrate the 
theories which we have endeavored to explain. The follow- 
ing example is a syllogism of the first figure, and of the 
mode Barbara : — 

BAR All bad men are miserable ; 

BA All tyrants are bad men ; 

RA Therefore, all tyrants are miserable. 
Analysis. The major term is '^ miserable," the minor term is ^^ ty- 
rants," and the middle term is ^^ bad men." The middle term is the 
subject of the major premise, '-all bad men are miserable," and the 
predicate of the minor premise, ^' all tyrants are bad men." The syl- 
logism is therefore of the first figure, which requires these positions of 
the middle term. The propositions are all universal aflfirmatives ; con- 
sequently the mode is Barbara. {Art. 537.) 

544. The next shall be an example of the second fig- 
ure, and of the mode Cesare. 

CE No deceitful man merits confidence ; 

SA All honest men merit confidence ; 

RE Therefore, no honest man is deceitful. 
Analysis. ^^ Deceitful" is the major term ; '^ honest man " is the mi- 
nor term; and -'merits confidence" is the middle term. The middle 
term is the predicate of both the premises, '^ no deceitful man merits 
confidence," '' all honest men merit confidence," which are the situa- 
tions of the middle term required by the second figure. The first 
premise is universal negative, marked by the letter e, '^ no deceitful 
man merits confidence;" the second universal affirmative, marked by 
the letter a, " all honest men merit confidence ;" the conclusion uni- 
versal negative, marked again by the letter e, ^' no honest man is de- 
ceitful." These letters constitute the mode Cesare. {Art. 541.) 

545. The subsequent syllogism is of the third figure, 
and of the mode Darapti. 

21 



258 A Gramma?^ of Logic. book iv. 

DA All good men are happy ; 

RAP All good men hate the devil ; 

Ti Therefore, some men who hate the devil are happy. 
.Analysis. The major term is '^ happy ;" the minor term is "hate 
the devil ;" and the middle term is "good men." The middle term 
is tlie subject of both premises, " all good men are happy," " all good 
men hate the devil," which constitutes a syllogism of the third figure. 
The major premise, " all good men are happy, ' is an universal affirma- 
tive ; the minor premise, " all good men hate the devil," is the same ; 
the conclusion, " some men who hate the devil are happy," is a par- 
ticular affirmative. The two premises are noted by the two ^'s, the 
conclusion by ^, and these letters form the mode Darapti. {Art. 542.) 

We have now produced an example of a mode of each 
figure. It would be tedious to exemplify all the m.odes ; 
but, to prevent suspicion of unfair dealing in this branch of 
logic, we shall, from the different figures and modes, add a 
few instances promiscuously, to illustrate further the nature 
of this famous instrument of reasoning. 

546. The following syllogism is of the mode Bocardo, 
which belongs to the third figure. The name shows that 
the first premise, o, must be a particular negative ; the sec- 
ond premise, a, an universal affirmative ; and the conclusion, 
o, a particular negative. The third figure requires the mid- 
dle term to be the subject of both premises ; all these requi- 
sites are thus fulfilled. 

BO Some good men are not rich; 

CAR All good men are happy ; 

DO Therefore, some happy men are not rich men. 

547. The next example is of Camestres, a mode of the 
second figure. 

CAM All men are animals ; 

EST No stone is an animal ; 

RES Therefore, no stone is a man. 
Analysis. " Animal" is the middle term, and is the predicate of both 
premi&es, as required by the second figure. The first premise is a, 
universal affirmative ; the second, e, universal negative ; the conclu- 
sion, e, also universal negative. Hence the mode Camestres. 

548. The mode Daini shall furnish another example. 

DA Every thing base should be avoided ; 

Ri Some pleasures are base ; 

I Therefore, some pleasures should be avoided. 

Analysis. ^-Avoided" is the major term; ^^ pleasures," the minor 

term: •• base," the middle term. Base, is the subject of the major 

premise, and the predicate of the minor, which refers the syllogism to 

the first figure. The first preuiise, maiked a^ is universal affirnm^ 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 259 

tive ; the second premise and the conclusion are marked i, i, particu- 
lar affirmatives ; hence the mode Darii. {Art. 589.) 

549. In each figure there are singular syllogisms, or syl- 
logisms relative to individuals, which cannot be reduced to 
any of the modes. They are allowed, however, to be legiti- 
mate syllogisms, and they are constructed on the same prin- 
ciple with the rest. The only difference is, that all the 
established modes refer to genus and species : these refer to 
species and individuals. 

Every traitor deserves death ; 

Judas was a traitor ; 

Therefore, Judas deserved death. 
This syllogism is of the first figure, where the middle term ^^ trai- 
tor " is the subject of the major premise, and the predicate of thfe 
minor premise. 

550. The following is a particular example of the second 
figure : — 

Socrates was an ugly man : 
Plato was not an ugly man ; 
Therefore, Plato was not Socrates. 
The middle term, '^ ugly," is the predicate of both premises. 

551. A particular example of the third figure : — 

Judas did not obtain salvation ) 
Judas was an apostle ) 

Therefore, every apostle did not obtain salvation. 
" Judas," is the middle term, and the subject of both premises, ac- 
cording to the requisitions of the third figure. 

IV. Of Complex Syllogisms, 

552. It is not the mere use of complex terms in a syllo- 
gism that gives it this name, though one of the terms is 
usually complex ; but those are properly called complex 
syllogisms^ in which the middle term is not connected with 
the whole subject, or the whole predicate in two distinct 
propositions, but is intermingled and compared with them 
by parts, or ir a more confused manner, in different forms 
of speech : as. 

The sun is a senseless being ; 
The Persians worshipped the sun ; 
Therefore, the Persians worshipped a senseless being. 
Here the predicate of the conclusion is " ivorshipped a senseless 
being,'' part, of which, '• a senseless being," is joined with the middle 
term, sun, in the major proposition, and the other part, '• worshipped," 
in the minor. 

Obs. Though this sort of argument is confessed to be entangled, or 
confused, and irregular, if examined by the rules oi simjde sijl ogisms, 



260 A Grammar of Logic. book iv^ 

yet there is a great variety of arguments used in books of learning, and 
in common life, whose consequence is strong and evident, and which 
must be ranked under this head ; as in the five following cases : — 

553. (I.) Exclusive propositions will form a complex ar- 
gument ; as, 

Pious men are the only favorites of heaven ; 
True Christians are favorites of heaven ; 
Therefore, true Christians are pious men. 
Or thus : Hypocrites are not pious men ; 

Therefore, hypocrites are not favorites of heaven.- 

554. (II.) Exceptive propositions will make such com- 
plex syllogisms ; as, 

None but physicians came to the consultation ; 
* The nurse is no physician ; 

Therefore, the nurse came not to the consultation. 

555. (III.) Or comparative ][>YO^ositions ; as, 

Knowledge is better than riches ; 
Virtue is better than knowledge ; 
Therefore, virtue is better than riches. 
Or thus : A dove will fly a mile in a minute ; 
A swallow flies swifter than a dove ; 
Therefore, a swallow will fly more than a mile in a minute. 

556. (IV.) Inceptive and desitive propositions ; as, 

The fogs vanish as the sun rises; 

But the fogs have not yet begun to vanish ; 

Therefore, the sun is not yet risen. 

557. (V.) Or mo Ja/ propositions ; as. 

It is necessary that a general understand the art of war ; 

But Caius does not understand the art of war ; 

Therefore, it is necessary Caius should not be a general. 

Or thus : A total eclipse of the sun would cause darkness at noon , 

It is possible that the moon, at that time, may totally eclipse the sun ; 

Therefore, it is possible that the moon may cause darkness at noon. 

558. Besides all these, there is a greater number of com- 
plex syllogisms which can hardly be reduced under any 
particular titles, because the forms of human language are 
so exceedingly various ; as, 

Example 1 . Christianity requires us to believe what the Apostles 

wrote ; 
St. Paul is an Apostle ; 
Therefore, Christianity requires us to believe what St 

Paul wrote. 

2. No human artist can make an animal ; 
A fly or a worm is an animal ; 
Therefore, no human artist can make a fly or a worm. 



CHAP. IV. Of RcHsoning and Syllogism. 261 

3. The father always li v^ed in London ; 
The son always lived with the father ; 
Therefore, the son always lived in London. 

4. The blossom soon follows the full bud ; 
This pear-tree hath many full buds ; 
Therefore, it will shortly have many blossoms 

5. One hailstone never falls alone ; 
But a hailstone fell just now ) 
Therefore, others fell with it. * 

6. Thunder seldom comes without lightning; ^ 
But it thundered yesterday ; 

Therefore, probably, it lightened also. 

7. Moses wrote before the Trojan war; 

The first Greek historians wrote after the Trojan war ; 
Therefore, the first Greek historians wrote after Moses. 

Note. Perhaps some of these syllogisms may be reduced to those 
which are called connective {Art. 566.) ; but it is of little moment to 
what species they belong ; for it is not any formal set of rules, so 
much as the evidence and force of reason, that must determine the 
truth or falsehood of all such syllogisms. 

Corol. Now, the force of all these arguments is so evident and con- 
clusive, that though the form of the syllogism be irregular, we are 
sure the inferences are just and true ; for the premises, according to 
the reason of things, do really contain the conclusion that is deduced 
from them, which is a never-failing test of a true syllogism^ as shall 
be shown hereafter. 

559. The truth of most of these complex syllogisms may 
also be made to appear, if needful, by reducing them either 
to regular, simple syllogisms, or to some of the conjunctive 
syllogisms, which are described in the next section. We 
will give an instance only in the first, and leave the rest to 
exercise the ingenuity of the reader. 

Example 1. The first argument may be reduced to a syllogism in 
Barbara; thus. 

The sun is a senseless being ; 
What the Persians worshipped is the sun ; 
Therefore, what the Persians worshipped is a senseless being. 
Though the conclusive force of this argument is evident without 
the reduction. 

V. Of Conjunctive Syllogisms. 

560. Those are called conjunctive syllogisms, wherein 
one of the premises, namely, the major, has distinct parts, 
which are joined by a conjunction, or some such particle of 
speech. Most times th^ major or minor, or both, are expli- 
citly compound propositions ; and generally the major prop- 

21^ 



262 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

osition is made up of two distinct parts or propositions, in 
such a manner, as that by the assertion of one in the minor , 
the other is either asserted or denied in the conclusion ; or, 
by the denial of one in the minor, the other is either assert- 
ed or denied in the conclusion. It is hardly possible, indeed, 
to fit any short definition to include all the kinds of these ; 
but the chief amongst them are the conditional syllogism, the 
disjunctive, the relative, and the connective. 

561. (I.) The conditional or hypothetical syllogism is 
that whose major or minor, or both, are conditional proposi- 
tions; as, 

If there be a God. the world is governed by Providence ; 
But there is a God ; 

Therefore, the world is governed by Providence. 
llbus. 1. These syllogisms admit two sorts of true argumentation, 
\vhether the major is conditional or not. 

I. When the antecedent is asserted in the minor 'that the conse- 
quent may be asserted in the conclusion : such is the preceding ex- 
ample. This is called arguing from the position of the antecedent to the 
position of the consequent. 

II. When the consequent is contradicted in the minor proposition, 
that the antecedent may be contradicted in the conclusion ; as, 

If atheists are in the right, then the world exists without a cause ; 
But the world does not exist without a cause ; 
Therefore, atheists are not in the right. 
This is called arguing from the removing of the consequent to the re- 
moving of the antecedent. 

Illus. 2. To remove the antecedent or consequent here, does not 
merely signify the denial of it, but the contradiction of it, for the mere 
denial of it by a contrary proposition w^ill not make a true syllogism, 
as appears thus : 

If every creature be reasonable, every brute is reasonable; 
But no brute is reasonable ; 
Therefore, no creature is reasonable. 
Whereas, if you say in the minor, every brute is not rcasonahU, 
then it would follow truly in the conclusion, therefore every creatui 
is not reasonable. 

Illus. 3. When the antecedent or consequent are negative proposi 
tions, they are removed by an affirmative ; as. 

If there be no God, then the world does not discover creative wisdom ; 
Bui the world does discover creative wisdom ; 
Therefore, there is a God. 

In this instance, the consequent is removed or contradicted in the 
minor, that the antecedent may be contradicted in the conclusion 
So in this argument of St. Paul, I Cor xv. 

If the dead rise not, Christ died in vain ; 

But Christ did not die in vain ; 

Therefore, the dead shall rise. 



HAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 263 

562. There are also two sorts of false arguing. 

I. From the removing of the antecedent to the removing 
of the consequent ; 

Or, II. From the position of the consequent to the posi- 
tion of the antecedent. 

Examples of these are easily framed ; as, 

1. If a minister were a prince, he must be honored ; 
But a minister is not a prince ; 

Therefore, he must not be honored. 

2. If a minister were a prince, he must be honored ; 
But a minister must be honored ; 

Therefore, he is a prince. 

Who sees not the falsehood of both these syllogisms ? 

Ohs. 1. If the subject of the antecedent and the consequent be the 
ijame, then the hypothetical syllogism may be turned into a categorical 
one ; as, If Csesar be a king, he must be honored ; but Caesar is a 
king ; therefore, &c. This may be changed thus : Every king must 
be honored ; but Caesar is a king ; therefore, &c. 

2. If the major proposition only be conditional , the conclusion 13 
categorical ; but if the minor or both be conditional^ the conclusion Is 
also conditional ; as, 

The worshippers of images are idolaters ; 

If the Romans worship a crucifix, they are worshippers of an image ; 
Therefore, if the Romans worship a crucifix, they are idolaters. 

But this sort of syllogism should be avoided as much as possible in 
disputation, because it greatly embarrasses a cause. The syllogisms 
whose major only is hypothetical, are very frequent, and used with 
great advantage. 

563. (II.) A disjunctive syllogism is when the major 
proposition is disjunctive ; as, 

The earth moves in a circle or an ellipsis ; 
But it does not move in a circle ; 
Therefore, it moves m an ellipsis, 

564. A disjunctive syllogism may have many members, 
or parts ; thus, 

It is either spring, summer, autumn, or winter ; 
But it is not spring, autumn, nor summer; 
Therefore, it is winter. 

Ohs. The true method of arguing here, is, from the assertion of one, 
to the denial of the rest, or from the denial of one or more, to the asser- 
tion of what remains; but the major should be so framed, that the sev- 
eral parts of it (Cannot be true together, though one of them is evi- 
dently true. 

565. (III.) A relative syllogism requires the major prop- 
ositi^ n to be relative ; as, 



264 A Grammar of Logic. book iv 

Where the general is, there shall his soldiers be ; 
But the general is in winter quarters ; 
Therefore, his soldiers shall be there also. 

Or : As is the captain, so are his soldiers ; 
But the captain is a coward ; ^ 

Therefore, his soldiers are so too. 
Obs. 1. Arguments that relate to the doctrine of proportion must be 
referred to this head ; as, 

As two are to four, so are three to six ; but two make the half of 
four ; therefore, three make the half of six. 

2. Besides these, there is another sort of syllogism, which is very 
natural and common, and yet authors take very little notice of it, 
call it by an improper name, and describe it very defectively ; and 
that is, 

566. (IV.) A connective syllogism. This some have 
called copulative, but it by no means requires the major to 
be either a copulative or a compound proposition, according 
to the definition given of it (Art, 560 and 568.) ; but it re- 
quires that two or more ideas be so connected, either in the 
complex subject or predicate of the major, that if one of 
them be affirmed or denied in the minor, common sense will 
naturally show us what will be the consequence. 

Example 1. Meekness and humility always go together ; 
Moses was a man of meekness ; 
Therefore, Moses was also humble. 
Or we may form this minor : 

Pharaoh was no humble man ; therefore, he was not meek. 

2. No man can serve God and Mammon ; 
The covetous man serves Mammon ; 
Therefore, he cannot serve God. 

Or the minor may run thus : 

The true Christian serves God ; 
Therefore, he cannot serve Mammon. 

3. Genius must join with study to make a great man ; 
Florino has genius, but he cannot study ; 
Therefore, Florino will never be a great man. 

Or thus : Quintus studies hard, but has no genius ; 

Therefore, Quintus will never be a great man. 

4. Gulo cannot make a dinner without flesh and fish ,• 
There was no fish to be gotten to-day ; 
Therefore, Gulo this day cannot make a dinner. 

5. London and Paris are in different latitudes; 
The latitude of London is 51^ degrees ; 
Therefore, this cannot be the latitude of Paris. 

6. Joseph and Benjamin had one mother ; 
Rachel was the mother of Joseph ', 
Therefore, she was Benjamin's mother too. 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. ^65 

7. Tbr father and the son are of equal stature; 
The father is six feet high ) 

Therefore, the son is six feet high also. 

8. Pride is inconsistent with innocence ; 
Angels have innocence ; 
Therefore, they have no pride ; 

Or thus : Devils have pride ; 

Therefore, they have not innocence. 

567. We might multiply other instances of these connect 
tive syllogisms, by bringing in all sorts of exceptive, excusive, 
comparative, and modal propositions into the composition of 
them ; for all these may be wrought into conjunctive, as well 
as into simple syllogisms, and we may thereby render them 
complex. 

Ohs. 1. Most of these may be transformed into categorical syllo- 
gisms, by the student who has a mind to prove their truth that way ; 
or they may be easily converted into each other by changing the 
forms of speech. 

2. These conjunctive syllogisms are seldom deficient or faulty in 
their form ; for such a deficiency would generally be discovered at 
first glance, by common reason, without any artificial rules of logic ; 
the chief care, therefore, is to see that the major proposition be true, 
upon which the whole force of the argument usually depends. 

VI. Of Compound, Imperfect, or Irregular Syllogisms. 

568. Compound Syllogisms are made up of two or more 
single syllogisms, and may be resolved into them. Imper- 
fect, or Irregular Syllogisms cannot be reduced to the 
rules of mode and figure. 

Example. Should we argue thus, — 
Every man is mortal ; 
Therefore, every king is mortal, — 
the syllogism appears to be imperfect, as it consists but of two prop- 
ositions. Yet is it complete, only the minor, 

Every king is a man, 
is omitted, and left to be supplied By the reader, as being a proposition 
so familiar and evident, that it cannot escape his observation and 
judgment of the conclusion. 

569. Enthymeme, the first seemingly imperfect syllogism 
we shall handle, occurs frequently in reasoning, especially 
where it makes a part of common conversation. [Example, 
Art. 294.) 

Illus. The example just given is an enthymeme ; and in the folio w- 
mg example one of the propositions which constitute the premises is 
omitted, and the conclusion is drawn from the other pren'.ise, as if the 
syllogism were regular and complete. 

Example- Whatever thinks is a spiritual substance ; 

Therefore the mind of man is a spiritual si: bstance •- 



966 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

Or thus : The mind thinks ; 

Therefore, the mind is a spiritual substanrp 
In the former case, we omit the minor proposition, 

The mind of man thinks, 
and infer the conclusion from the major. In the latter case, we omit 
the major proposition, 

Whatever thinks is a spiritual substance, 
and infer the same conclusion from the minor. It is supposed, in both 
cases, that the connection of the conclusion with either premise, is 
so apparent, as to render unnecessary the presence of the other 
premise. 

The premise in this case is called the antecedent ; and the conclu- 
sion the SEQUELA, or the inference. 

Schoiimn. In enthymemes there is a particular elegance, especially 
in common conversation, because, not displaying the argument in all 
its parts, they leave to the exercise and invention of the mind that 
scope which it delights to take. Besides, by this means, it is put upon 
that exercise that makes it a partaker in the discovery of what is pro- 
posed to it. And, in fine writing, this is the great secret, so to frame 
and put together our thoughts as to give full play to the reader's im- ■ 
agination, and draw him insensibly into our views and course of rea- 
soning. This, says Duncan, gives a pleasure not unlike to that which 
the author feels himself in composing. It, besides, shortens discourse, 
and adds a certain force and liveliness to our arguments, when the 
words in which they are conveyed favor the natural quickness of the 
mind in its operations, and a single expression is left to exhibit the 
whole train of thoughts. 

570. But there is another species of reasoning with two 
propositions, which seems to be complete in itself, and where 
we admit the conclusion without supposing any tacit or sup- 
pressed judgment in the mind, from which it follows syllo- 
gistically. We should term this the grovnd of reasoning in 
immediate consequences. 

Tllus. 1. This so appears, when between propositions where the 
connection is such, that the admission of the one, necessarily, and at 
the first sight, implies the admission of the other. For, if it so falls 
out that the proposition on which the other depends is self-evident, 
we content ourselves with barely affirming it, and infer that other by 
a direct conclusion. 

2. Thus, ))y admitting an universal proposition, we are forced to 
admit of all the particular propositions comprehended under it, this 
being the very condition that constitutes a proposition universal. 
(.^rt. 4(39. Illus. 1.) If, then, that universal proposition chances to be 
self-evident, the particular ones follow of course, without any further 
train of reasoning. 

Example 1. Whoever allows, for instance, that things equal to one 
and the same thing are equal to one a,nother, must at the same time al- 
low, that tioo tria,ngles, each equal to a, square whose side is three inches , 
are also equal between themselves. This argument therefore — Things 
equal to one and the same thing are equal to one another ; Therefore, 
these two trianglrs, each equal to the square of a line of three inches, are 
equal between themselves — 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 26? 

is complete in its kind, and contains all that is necessary towards a 
just and legitimate conclusion ; for the first or universal proposi- 
tion is self-evident, and therefore requires no farther proof; and as 
the truth of the particular is inseparably connected with that of the 
universal, it follows from it by an obvious and unavoidable conse- 
quence. 

571. Now, in all cases of this kind, where propositions 
are deduced one from another, on account of a known and 
evident connection, we are said to reason by immediate con- 
sequence. Such a coherence of propositions, manifest at 
first sight, and forcing itself upon the mind, frequently oc- 
curs in reasoning. Logicians have explained the several 
suppositions upon which it takes place, and allow of all im- 
mediate consequences that follow in conformity to them. 

Obs. These arguments {.^rt. 570 and 571.), though seemingly com- 
plete, because the conclusion follows necessarily from the single prop- 
osition that goes before, may yet be considered as real enthymemeSy 
whose major, which is a conditional proposition, is wanting. 

Example 1. The syllogism just mentioned, when represented ac- 
cording to this view, will run thus : 

Things equal to one and the same thing are equal to one another ; 
These two triangles, each equal to a square whose side is three inches, 

are also equfd hetiveen themselves. 
But things equal to one and the same thing, are equal to one another ; 
Therefore, also, these triangles, SfC. are equal between thernselves. 

I'his. 1. The foregoing observation and example will be found to 
hold in all immediate consequences whatsoever, insomuch that they 
are in fact no more than enthymemes of hypothetical syllogisms. But 
then it is particular to them, that the ground on which the conclu- 
sion rests, namely, its coherence with the 'minor, is of itself apparent, 
and seen immediately to flow from the rules of logic. As it is, there- 
fore, entirely unnecessary to express a self-evident connection, the 
major, whose office that is, is constantly omitted ; nay, and seems so 
very little needful to enforce the conclusion, as to be accounted com- 
monly no part of the argument. 

2. It must indeed be owned, that the foregoing immediate conse- 
quence might have been reduced to a simple as well as an hypothetical 
syllogism,. This will be evident to any one who gives himself the 
trouble to make the experiment. But it is not my design to enter 
farther into these niceties : what has been said shows, That all argu- 
ments consisting of but two propositions are real enthymemes, and 
reducible to complete syllogisms of some one form or other. 

Corol. As, therefore, the ground on which the conclusion rests, must 
needs be always the same with that of the syllogisms to which it be- 
longs, we have here an universal criterion whereby at all times to 
ascertain the justness and validity of our reasonings in this way. 

572. A sorites of plain, .simple syllogisms, is a way of ar- 
guing, in which a great number of propositions are so linked 



268 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

t(»gether, that the predicate of one becomes continually the 
subject of the next following, until at last a conclusion is 
formed, by bringing together the subject of the first propo- 
sition and the predicate of the last. 

Example. Of this kind is the following argument : 
God is omnipotent. 

Jin omnipotent being can do every thing possible. 
He that can do every thing possible, can do whatever involves not 

a contradiction. * 

Therefore^ God can do whatever involves not a contradiction. 
Illus. 1. This particular combination of propositions may be con- 
tinued to any length we please, without in the least weakening the 
ground upon which the conclusion rests. The reason is, because the 
sorites itself may be resolved into as many simple syllogisms as there 
are middle terms in it ; where this is found universally to hold, that 
when such a resolution is made, and the syllogisms are placed in 
train, the conclusion of the last in the series is also the conclusion of 
the sorites. 

2. This kind of argument, therefore, as it serves to unite several 
syllogisms into one, must stand upon the same foundation with the 
syllogisms of which it consists, and is. indeed, properly speaking, no 
other than a compendious way of reasoning syllogistically. Any one 
may be satisfied of this at pleasure, if he but takes the trouble of re- 
solving the foregoing sorites into two distinct syllogisms ; for he will 
there find, that he arrives at the same conclusion ; and that too by the 
very same train of thinking, but with abundantly more words, and the 
addition of two superfluous propositions. 

573. A sorites of hypothetical syllogisms. What is here 
said of plain, simple propositions, may be well applied to 
those that are conditional ; that is, any number of them may 
be so joined together in a series, that the consequent of one 
shall become continually the antecedent of the next follow- 
ing ; in which case, by establishing the antecedent of the 
first proposition, we establish the consequent of the last, or 
by removing the last consequent, remoy© also the first ante- 
cedent. 

Example 1. This way of reasoning is exemplified in the follow- 
ing argument : 

If we love any person, all emotions of hatred toicards him cease. 
If all emotions of hatred towards a person cease, roe cannot rejoice 

in his misfortunes. 
If toe rejoice not in his misfortunes, we certainly wish him no injury. 
Therefore, if we love a person, we wish him no injury. 

nius. It is evident that these sorites, as well as the last, may be 
resolved into a series of distinct syllogisms, with this difl^erence only, 
that here the syllogisms are all conditional. But as tiie cone ugJLon of 
the last syllogism in the series is the same with the conclusion of 
the sorites, it is plain, that this also is a compendious way of reason- 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 269 

ing, whose evidence arises from the evidence of the several single 
syllogisms :nto which it may be resolved. 

Example 2. The mind is a thinking substance. A thinking sub- 
stance is a spirit. A spirit has no extension. What has no exten- 
sion has no parts. What has no parts is indissoluble. What is in- 
dissoluble is immortal. Therefore, the mind is immortal. {CoroL 
1,2, and 3. Art. 99.) 

This specics, like the former, is only a train of syllogisms abridged, 
into which it may easily be resolved in the following manner : — 

All thinking substances are spirits ; 
The mind is a thinking substance ; 
Therefore, the mind is a spirit. 

Spirits have no extension ; 

The mind is a spirit ; 

Therefore, the mind has no extension. 

Things having no extension have no parts ; 
The mind has no extension ; 
Therefore, the mind has no parts. 

Things having no parts are indissoluble ; 
The mind has no parts ; 
Therefore, the mind is indissoluble. 

Things indissoluble are immortal ; 
The mind is indissoluble ; 
Therefore, the mind is immortal. 

Analysis. Here, also, it appears, that all the intermediate proposi- 
tions between the first and the last of a sorites may be formed into 
separate syllogisms ; and that it is equivalent to an argument formed 
of as many syllogisms as the argument contains intermediate propo- 
sitions. It may also be observed, that every idea of the sorites is 
twice repeated, and that it might be farther abridged without any 
detriment to the evidence it communicates. Had it stood as fol- 
lows, the agreement of its ideas would have been as clear, and its 
evidence as satisfactory, as in any other form. Mind — thinking 
substance — spirit — without extension — without parts — indissoluble — 
immortal. 

574. Ground of reasoning hy Induction. We come now 
to that kind of argument which Logicians call induction ; in 
order to the right understanding of which, it will be neces- 
sary to observe, that our general ideas are, for the most part, 
capable of various subdivisions. 

Rlns. Thus, the idea of the lowest species may be subdivided into 
its several individuals ; the idea of any genus into the different 
species it comprehends ; and so of the rest. If, then, we suppose 
this distribution to be duly made, and so as to take in the whole ex- 
tent of the idea to which it belongs, then it is plain that all the sub- 
divisions or parts of any idea taken together constitute that whole 
idea. Thus the several individuals of any species taken together 
constitute the whole species, and all the various species compre- 

-22 



270 A Grammar of Logic. bock l\. 

bended under any genus make up the whole genus. This being 
allowed, it is apparent, that whatsoever may be affirmed of all the 
several subdi\ ..-.3ns and classes of any idea ought to be affirmed of 
the whole general idea to which these subdivisions belong. What 
may be affirmed of all the individuals of any species, may be affirmed 
of the whole species ; and what may be affirmed of all the species of 
any genus, may also be affirmed of the whole genus ; because all the 
individuals taken together are the same with the species ; and all the 
species taken together the same with the genus. 

575. The form and structure of an argument by induction. 
This way of arguing, where we infer universally concerning 
any idea, what we had before affirmed or denied separately 
of all its several subdivisions and parts, is called reasoning 
by induction. 

Example. Thus, if we suppose the whole tribe of animals subdi- 
vided into men, beasts, birds, insects, and fishes, and then reason 
concerning them after this manner ; — 

All men have a power of beginning motion ; • 

All beasts, birds, and insects have a power of beginnings motion ) 
All fishes have a power of beginning motion; 
Therefore, all animals have a power of beginning motion ; — 

the argument is an induction. When the subdivisions are just^ 
so as to take in the whole general idea, and the enumeration is per- 
fect, that is, extends to all and to every one of the inferior classes or 
parts, there the induction is complete, and the manner of reasoning 
by induction is apparently conclusive. 

576. The ground of argumentation in a dilemma. A di- 
lemma is an argument by which we endeavor to prove the 
absurdity or falsehood of some assertion. 

Illus. In order to this, we assume a conditional proposition, the 
antecedent of which is, the assertion to be disproved, and the conse- 
quent a disjunctive proposition, enumerating all the possible suppo- 
sitions upon which that assertion can take place. If, then, it appears 
that all these several suppositions ought to be rejected, it is plain that 
the antecedent or assertion itself must be so too. When, therefore, 
such a proposition as that before mentioned is made the major of any 
syllogism, if the minor rejects all the suppositions contained in the 
consequent, it foilow^s necessarily that the conclusion ought to reject 
the antecedent, which, as we have said, is the very assertion to be 
disproved This particular way of arguing is that which Logicians 
call a dilemma ; and from the account here given of it, it appears that 
we may, in general, define it to be an hypothetical syllogism ivhere 
the consequeMt of the major is a disjunctive proposition^ which is wholly 
taken away or removed in the minor. 

Example. Of this kind is the following : 

If God did not create the world perfect in its kind, it must either 
proceed from want of inclination, or from want of power; 



ciiAP. iv. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 271 

But it could not proceed either from want of inclination or from 

want of power. 
Therefore, God created the world perfect in its kind ; Or, which 

is the same thing, it is absurd to say that he did not create 

the world perfect in its kind. 

577. An universal description of a dilemma. The nature, 
then, of a dilemma^ is universally this. The major is a con- 
ditional proposition, whose consequent contains all the seve- 
ral propositions upon vi^hich the antecedent can take place. 
As, therefore, these suppositions are vi^holly removed into 
the minor ^ it is evident that the- antecedent must be so too; 
insomuch that we here always argue from the removal of 
the consequent to the removal of the antecedent. That is, 
a dilemma is an argument in the modus toUens of hypotheti- 
cal syllogisms, as logicians love to speak. Hence, it is 
plain, that if the antecedent of the major is an affirmative 
proposition, the conclusion of the dilemma will be negative ; 
but if it is a negative proposition, the conclusion will be 
affirmative. 

578. A dilemma becomes faulty or ineffectual three ways : 
First, When the members of the division are not well op- 
posed, or not fully enumerated ; for then the major is false. 
Secondly, When what is asserted concerning each part is 
not just ; for then the minor is not true. Thirdly, When it 
may be retorted with equal force upon him who utters it. 

Example, There was a famous ancient instance of this case, 
wherein a dilemma was retorted. Euathlus promised Prutagorus a 
reward when he had taught him the art of pleading, and it was to be 
paid the first day that he gained any cause in the court. After a con- 
siderable time Protagoras goes to law with Euathlus for the reward, 
and uses this dilemma : 

Either the cause will go on my side or on yours ; 

If the cause goes on my side, you must pay me according to the 

sentence of the judge ; 
If the cause goes on your side, you must pay me according to 

your bargain ; 
Therefore, whether the cause goes for me or against me, you 

must pay me the reward. 

But Euathlus retorted this dilemma, thus : 
Either I shall gain the cause or lose it ; 
If I gain the cause, then nothing will be due to you according 

to the sentence of the judge ; 
But if I lose the cause, nothing will be due to you according to 

my bargain ; 
Therefore, whether I lose or gain the cause, I will not pay you. 

for nothing will be due to you. 



272 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

Ohs. 1. A dile^nma is usually described as though it always proved 
the absurdity, inconvenience, or unreasonableness of some opinion or 
practice ; and this is the most common design of it ; but it is plain, 
that it may also be used to prove the truth or advantage of any thing 
proposed ; as, in heaven we shall either have desires or not ) if we 
have no desires, then we have full satisfaction; if we have desires, 
they shall be satisfied as fast as they rise ; therefore, in heaven we 
shall be completely satisfied. 

2. This sort of argument may be composed of three or more mem- 
bers, and may be called a trilemma. 

579 1 cannot dismiss this subject without observing, that 
as there is something very curious and entertaining in the 
structure of a dilemma, so it is a manner of reasoning that 
occurs frequently in mathematical demonstrations. 

ILlus. Nothing is more common with Euclid, when about to show 
the equality of two given figures, or, which is the same thing, to 
prove the absurdity of asserting them unequal ; nothing, I say, is 
more common with him than to assume, that if the one is not equal to 
the other, it must be either greater or less ; and, having destroyed both 
these suppositions, upon which alone the assertion can stand, he 
thence very naturally infers, that the assertion itself is false. Now, 
this is precisely the reasoning of a dilemma, and in every step coin- 
cides with the frame and composition of that argument, as we have 
described it above. 

VII. Of the Merit of Syllogistic Reasoning. 

580. That v^e may do it no injustice in the course of the 
discussion, it may be necessary to observe, that every syllo- 
gism must not be considered as containing a complete argu- 
ment, or a train of reasoning, if the argument requires more 
than one intermediate idea. One syllogism, on the contrary, 
contains only one step of a train of reasoning ; and, in ar- 
ranging a train of reasoning in the syllogistic form, as many 
syllogisms must be made as there are steps or comparisons 
in that train. We must also observe, that by proceeding in 
this manner, any train of reasoning, in arts, in science, or in 
business, may be converted into syllogisms. These remarks 
may be illustrated by exhibiting the first demonstration of 
the first book of Euclid in this form. 

Illus. The object of the proposition is to prove that, The triangle 
described on the given line AB, by means of the two circles, the 
semi-diameter of each of which is the line AB, is equilateral. From 
the properties of the circle, each of the sides of the triangle is found 
equal to the base, and the inference is drawn necessarily, that all the 
sides are equal. This train of reasoning, expressed by syllogisms, 
will stand as follows : 



CHAP. i> Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 273 

1 . All the semi-diameters of the same circle are equal ; 

The lines AB, AC,^ are semi-diameters of the same circle ; 
Therefore, these lines are equal. 

ii. All the semi- diameters of the same circle are equal ; 

The lines BA, BC, are semi-diameters of the same circle ; 
Therefore, these lines are equal. 

3. Whatever things are equal to the same thing, are equal to one 

another ; 
The lines AC and BC are equal to the line AB , 
Therefore, the lines AC, BC, are equal to one another. 

4. Triangles, having their sides equal, are called equilateral; 
The triangle ABC has all its sides equal ; 

Therefore, it is equilateral. 

581. Now, the point to be investigated is, Whether the 
syllogistic method of exhibiting this demonstration, or any 
other train of reasoning, is preferable to that adopted by Eu- 
clid, or to the method which places the successive ideas in 
the nearest juxtaposition, and expresses them in the fewest 
and plainest words. 

Illus. From the example which we have given, it will appear, that 
the syllogistic form is not nearly so concise as that of Euclid; for all 
the ideas of Euclid's demonstration are expressed in one half of the 
words which are requisite to constitute these four syllogisms. Even 
Euclid's manner of expression is copious and full ; and the evidence 
of his demonstration woqM not perhaps have 'been impaired, had he 
communicated it as follows : — The semi-diameters AB and AC of 
the one circle are equal ; the semi-diameters of AB and BC of the 
other circle are equal also; therefore^ the triangle is equilateral, and 
described on the given line. 

582. But, besides being more prolix, the syllogistic meth- 
od adds no light to the evidence by which the ideas of the 
train of reasoning are perceived, which light the ideas pos- 
sess not in their natural state of juxtaposition. Every syl- 
logism consists of three terms, and the reasoner must have 
discovered the middle term, and observed the agreement of 
it with the extremes, before he can form the terms into a 
syllogism. After the syllogism is formed, the mind acquires 
no satisfaction from the contemplation of it, which the terms 
did not suggest in the state of juxtaposition. 

ILlus. Suppose we were to prove, that Socrates was content with 
his condition, because he was a wise man ; we should have three 
terms, of which a syllogism may be formed, and which, in their nat- 
ural order, would stand thus : Socrates — a wise man — content with 
his condition. We affirm, that the agreement between Socrates 



* See the figure in Simson's Euclid. 

22* 



274 A Grammar of Logic. book iv. 

and contentm:nt. is as obvious and satisfactory in the simple juxta 
position of the terms, as it is after these terms are formed into the 
following syllogism : 

All wise men are content with their condition ; 

Socrates was a wise man ; 

Therefore, Socrates was content with his condition. 

583. Farther, as the syllogistic form communicates no 
additional light, so neither does it assist in discovering mid- 
dle terms. The principal operations of any investigation 
are the invention of intermediate ideas, and the comparison 
of them w^ith one another, and with the extremes. The in- 
vention of middle terms is the chief operation ; and excel- 
lence in it is the most important qualification any inquirer 
can possess. It seems to depend on natural sagacity and 
acuteness, fortified and improved by exercise. From syl- 
logism, in particular, no aid can be derived. It does not 
even pretend to give any aid. Its only object is to assist in 
the second operation, the comparison of ideas ; and we have 
seen that the syllogistic exhibition is not more perspicuous 
than the natural one. 

584. But the most singular phenomenon of syllogism is, 
that the conclusion is often a self-evident proposition, some- 
times even trifling and insignificant. The discussion of 
this point will unfold the whole mystery and merit of the 
method. 

Illus. In converting a train of ideas into the syllogistic form, there 
must be made as many syllogisms as there are steps or comparisons 
in the train, and as many as there are ideas in the train, except one. 
Each idea of the train, beginning with the second, is the major term 
of its respective syllogism : the other two terms of the same syllo- 
gism are, one a genus, and the other a species of that genus. The 
major term is compared first with the one, and then with the other, 
and must be found either to agree or disagree with both. 

Example. Take, for example, the train of reasoning formerly men- 
tioned, (^r^. 573.) Human mind — thinking substance immaterial — 
indissoluble— immortal, and convert it into syllogisms. 

First. Whatever perceives, judges, and reasons, is a thinking sub- 
stance ; 
The human mind perceives, judges, and reasons ; 
Therefore, the human mind is a thinking substance. 

Analysis. In this syllogism, the major term, '=' thinking substance,' 
and the second idea of the train, is compared with the genus, ^- what- 
ever perceives, judges, and reasons," in the first premise, and is found 
to agree with it. The same major term is compared again with the 
species, 'Hhe human mind," in the conclusion, and is found also to 
agree with it. Nfw, the genus, '' whatever perceives, judges and 



CHAP*. TV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. 275 

reasonSj" the species, ^^ the inind of man," and *^ thinking substance," 
are all the terms of this syllogism. 

Secondly. Whatever thinks is immaterial ; 
The human mind thinks ; 
Therefore, the human mind is immaterial. 

Analysis. '• Immaterial," the third idea of the train, and the major 
term of this syllogism, is compared first with the genus, '^ whatever 
thinks," and next with the species, '^ the human mind," and is 
found to agree with both. 

Thirdly. Whatever is immaterial is indissoluble ; 
The mind of man is immaterial ; 
Therefore, the mind of man is indissoluble. 

Analysis. '^ Indissoluble," the fourth idea of the train, and the ma- 
jor term of this syllogism, is compared first with the genus, '' whatever 
is immaterial," and next with the species, ^- the mind of man," and is 
found to agree with both. 

Fourthly. Whatever is indissoluble is immortal ; 
The mind of man is indissoluble ; 
Therefore, the mind of man is immortal. 

Analysis. ^^ Immortal," the last idea of the train, and the major 
term of this syllogism, is compared first with the genus, ^' whatever 
is indissoluble," and then with the species, ^^ the mind of man," and 
is found to agree with both. 

585. From these examples it appears, that the major 
term of every syllogism i^one of the ideas of the train, he- 
ginning ivith the second; that the minor term of every syl- 
logism is the first idea of the trai7i ; and that the middle 
term of every syllogism is a genus of the minor. The syl- 
logisms w^hich we have formed are all of the first figure ; but 
this circumstance is no objection against the remarks which 
we have to make, because all the other figures and modes 
proceed on the same principle ; namely, the comparison of 
the major term, first, with the genus of the minor, and, next, 
with the minor as a species ; or the syllogisms of the other 
figures may be reduced to those of the first in which these 
conditions take place. 

586. What, then, is the mystery of this mighty syllogistic 
art, which has so long engaged the attention of learned men, 
and is still accounted by many of that description to contain 
something meritorious, or to be an analysis of the art of rea- 
soning ? It is no more than this, " Whatever agrees with 
any genus, will agree with every species of that genus ; or 
whatever disagrees with any genus, will disagree w^ith every 
species of that genus." If this be the principle of the art, 
can we wonder at the self-evidence of all the conclusions o^ 



276 A Grammm^ of Logic. book iv. 

all its syllogisms, or that it never gratified science or busi- 
ness with the discovery of any usefijl truth ? 

587. When we reflect how genus and species are formed, 
it is impossible but what agrees or disagrees with the one, 
must agree or disagree with the other. What is a genus ? 
It is a collection of all the qualities common to the species 
it includes. What agrees then with the common qualities 
of any species, must agree with the species itself, as far as 
these qualities extend ; and syllogism carries the agree- 
ment of the major term with the minor and middle terms 
no farther than these qualities. What agrees with the ge- 
nus must agree with the species; it is only an agreement 
with the same thing in different situations ; the major term 
agrees or disagrees with perfectly the same qualities in the 
genus with which it agrees or disagrees in the species. 

CoroL Hence it appears, that after finding the agreement of the 
major term with the genus of the minor term^ the conclusion, which 
asserts the agreement of the major term with the species, or the 
minor term itself, must be self-evident. To arrange things into spe- 
cies and genera, is extremely convenient for the purposes of lan- 
guage, and some of the purposes of philosophy ; but to pretend to 
reason from the one to the other, seems to be the quintessence of 
vanity or folly. 

588. Examine any demonstration *of Euclid, any investi- 
gation of morals, politics, or affairs of common life, and you 
will find, that no man in earnest reasons from a genus to a 
species. 

nius. 1. A mathematical demonstration consists of the comparison 
of quantities of the same species ; figures are compared with figures ; 
angles with angles ; and lines with lines. 

2. An inquiry concerning justice or charity, compares these virtues 
with the principles of reason, equity, the laws of the community, and 
the situations of persons. 

3. A process in the arts refers to the theory of the art, and to the 
example of the most reputable and successful practitioners. 

589. It is of little consequence to maintain, that the syl- 
logistic art sometimes makes its way into the most serious 
business, and that every indictment for a crime, for instance, 
is a syllogism ; of which the major premise contains the de- 
scription of the crime, and its punishment appointed by the 
law ; the minor premise, the application of the law to the 
case of the criminal ; and the conclusion, an assertion that 
the criminal merits the punishment appointed by the law. 

lllus. 1. That an indictment stands in the Ibrm of a syllogism, no 



CHAP. IV. Of Reasoning and Syllogism. '211 

doubt can exist. The major term is the punishment ; the crime com- 
mitted is the minor term and the species ; the description of the crime 
in the law is the middle term and the genus. 

Corol. The major term, or the punishment, agrees with the genus, 
or the law ; and it agrees also, perhaps, with the minor term and the 
species, or the crime of the prisoner. But there is not here, strictly- 
speaking, any reasoning. 

Illus. 2. A trial is no more than a scrutiny, whether a particular 
crime is included under a general law, or whether the indictment ac- 
cords with truth, when it asserts, that the prisoner, in taking away the 
property or the ZZ/e of his fellow-creature, has committed the crime of 
theft or murder, of which crimes the perpetrators are declared by the 
law to deserve punishment. 

Corol. There is no more reasoning in this case, than in every ap- 
plication of the principles of science to the particular cases they 
include. 

Illus. 3. The assertion that a particular field consists of a certain 
number of acres, is equally a syllogism w^ith an indictment charging a 
culprit with the commission of a crime punishable by law. 

Example. The number of acres, suppose ten, is the major term ; the 
length and breadth of the fields, is the minor term and the species ; the 
number of acres of which all fields of the length and breadth of the 
one under consideration consists, is the middle term and the genus. 
The major term, ten acres, agrees with the dimensions of all fields of 
the extent of the one under consideration ; it agrees, also, with the 
dimensions of the one under consideration ; and, therefore, it agrees 
both with the genus and the species of the syllogism. 

Conclusion, 

But, though the syllogistic method be nugatory and insignificant as 
an instrument of reasoning, it possesses high merit as an engine of 
wrangling and controversy. It was the happiest contrivance that 
could have been devised for conducting those public disputations and 
comparative trials, which for ages prevailed in Europe, and in which 
the discovery of truth was no part of the ambition of the combatants. 
The most ready and acute framer of syllogisms was sure to retire tri- 
umphant. The grand contest was not whether the syllogism con- 
tained any useful truth. The object of one party was to maintain its 
legitimacy ; of the other, to controvert or deny one of its propositions. 
Wrangling thus became a science ; and the mind of man, apparently 
enthusiastic in the discovery of truth and knowledge, never wandered 
farther from their paths. 



BOOK V. 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 



CHAPTER L 



HUMAN KNOWLEDGE ADDRESSED TO THE MEMORY. 

590. In Art. 464. llius. we inquired, generally, what 
knowledge is ; but it is now necessary to show that all hu- 
man KNOWLEDGE is conceived to consist of sciences and 
arts, between which it is difficult to fix the distinction with 
accuracy ; and, accordingly, we sometimes find the same 
branch of knowledge denominated, promiscuously, a science 
and an art. All the principles of science have some reference 
to practice, and the theory of every art may merit the appel- 
lation of a science. 

Illus. 1. Some difference, however, there is between them, which, 
as far as it is of any importance, may be characterized in the follow- 
ing manner : — A science is a system of general truths relative to 
some branch of useful knowledge, and supported by evidence, either 
demonstrative or highly probable. An art is the application of the 
organs of the body, or the faculties of the mind, to the execution of 
some design, directed by the best principles and rules of practice. 

2. A SCIENCE is addressed entirely to the understanding ; an 
ART generally occupies both the understanding and the members 
of the body. A science is acquired by study alone ; an art can- 
not be acquired without much practice of the operations it con- 
tains. ^Accurate knowledge is all that is necessary in science ; emi- 
nence in art demands, besides, an acquaintance with rules, and the 
habit of dextrous and ready performance. 

591. Human knowledge divides itself into three great 
compartments, adapted to the memory^ the understandings 
and the imagination. To the memory may be addressed 
HISTORY ; to the understanding, philosophy ; and to thq 
imagination, poetry. 



OHAP. I. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 279 

Ohs. 1. These words, history, philosophy, poetry, taken in their 
most extensive meanings, may comprehend every branch of human 
knowledge. 

Rlus, 1. Under history are included all fats relative to nature 
or .society, of which we can obtain intelligence, and which we can 
commit to record. 

2. Under philosophy is contained all information relative to sci- 
ences or arts, attainable by the exercise of the under standitig, or by 
expv/rieace and practice. 

3. Under poetry are implied all those branches of knowledge, 
which in any form contribute chiefly to engage or interest the im- 
agination. 

Ohs. 2. These great divisions will be perceived to run into one an- 
other, because different branches of knowledge are generally addressed 
to more of those faculties than one. 

592. History is divided into three parts, Sacred, Civil, 
and Natural. 

lllus. Sacred history comprehends the narrative parts of revela- 
tion, and the history of the church, commonly called Ecclesiastical 
History ; embracing the history of the Jews, both political and eccle- 
siastical ; the history of the propagation and progress of Christianity, 
as far as they were carried on by Jesus Christ, and his immediate suc- 
cessors the apostles ; and the history of the Christian churches, from 
the era of the apostles to the present time, 

593. Civil, or, as some writers call it, profane history, in 
opposition to sacred, contains an account of the govern- 
ments, and of the civil and military transactions of nations ; 
and displays those great exhibitions of human nature, which 
the preservation of the happiness of large communities of 
men, and the convulsions of societies, frequently produce. 

lUus. The most instructive lessons in morality and in politics, those 
most useful sciences, which provide for the felicity and comfort of in- 
dividuals and nations, are presented to our view in civil history. It 
recounts the noble deeds of the patriot and the hero, and insinuates, by 
their example, the most salutary instruction, while it holds forth the 
cruelty of the oppressor, or the irregularities and crimes of bad men, 
as the causes of their misery. All civilized nations have exhibited 
specimens of their progress in this branch of knowledge. 

594. Another branch of civil, is literary history ; or de- 
tails of the origin and progress of learning, with the revolu- 
tions it has undergone in different ages and situations. 
Though the incidents of this branch are not so splendid as 
those of the former, they are entitled to regard. 

nius. Civil history displays the qualities of the statcBman and the 
warrior. Literary history unfolds the productions of the imagina- 
tion, of the heart, and of the understanding, a-ad illustrates the effects 
of external circumstances, in calling forth or repressing the exertions 



280 ^1 Grammar of JLogic. book v. 

of the man of genius, and of the philosopher. Next to provision for 
the safety and happiness of individuals and communities, the most 
meritorious objects of general attention, are those pursuits which ad- 
vance the character of human nature, and promote its civilization, its 
refinement, and its dignity. 

595. Profane history includes, further, memoirs, annals, 
BIOGRAPHY, and is intimately connected with antiquities, 
chronology, and geography/. 

Illus. A memoir is a familiar narration, in which the author attempts 
not the profound discussion, nor the dignity of style employed by the 
historian. The writer of memoirs presents a simple and plain rela 
tion of facts, and leaves reflections and comments to the reader. 

Ohs. A work of this sort, executed with ability, possesses many at- 
tractions, sufficient to gain admirers. It is generally more circumstan- 
tial and more picturesque than regular history, and by admitting the 
reader into more intimate familiarity with the author, communicates 
instruction with the ease of conversation, without assuming the aus- 
tere and less pleasant tone of teaching 

596. Annals are a history constructed in the form of a 
journal, and bind it sometimes so closely in the trammels of 
chronology,. that the author cannot depart from the order of 
time, nor anticipate any part of his narrative, to connect the 
several incidents of an event. The transactions that occur 
vi/ithin the year must appear in their proper places ; and if 
the events extend over several years before their completion, 
their annual portions are detached and related apart. 

Obs The annalist seldom attempts to throw much interest into his 
work, or to convey any knowledge besides a distinct and accurate 
view of facts. He seldom endeavors to adorn his relation, or to in- 
terweave in it moral or political information. He undertakes the 
humble task of delineating with accuracy the naked facts, and leaves 
the historian to embellish them. He is properly the pioneer of the 
historian, and contributes greatly to shorten his labor, and to accelerate 
his progress. 

Example. Both Thucydides and Tacitus have given to their highly- 
finished histories the form, and the latter even the name, of annals. 
Thucydides imposed harder conditions upon himself than are de- 
manded by the rigid rules of annals. His narrative is divided into 
periods of half a year, and he scruples not to mince his transactions 
into fragments, to make them correspond to this minute distribution 
of his time. The annals of Scotland, published by Sir David Dal- 
rymple, realize the idea we have given of this species of writing. 

597. Biography records the lives of eminent individu- 
als, and is susceptible of much interest, as the personages may 
be selected from any order of society — They may be men of 
letters, of pleasure, of business — They may be kings, state^^ 
men, politicians^ artists^ ijuarriors. 



CHAP. I. P1iiloso]^hy of Human Knowledge. 281 

Ohs. The relation of their lives may coinpreheiid entertaining 
strictures on the character and conduct of those with whom they 
have been connected, and important discoveries into the history of 
the times in which they have lived. 

598. Antiquities, Chronology, and Geography, are 
the handmaids of history. 

599. Antiquities contain discussions concerning monu- 
merits, political, military, sepulchral, or etymological, that 
transcend the limits of history, and relate to events, cus- 
toms, or opinions, about which no other documents exist. 
The early transactions of all nations are involved in obscuri- 
ty, because the composition and preservation of records 
hardly appear but in an advanced state of civilization. 
There is, however, in mankind, a desire to perpetuate the 
memory of important events, as well as to investigate the 
meaning of manners, practices, and opinions, the origin of 
which is obscure. Hence, stones, and coins, and columns, 
the most durable materials with which men are acquainted, 
before the use of writing, are naturally selected to gratify 
this desire. 

Ohs. The most important branch, however, of antiquities, relates 
to the obscurities o^ history, manners, and laws. '^ Antiquitates," says 
Lord Bacon, in this sense, ^' historise deformatae sunt, sive reliquiae 
historiae, qu83 casu e naufragio temporum ereptas sunt. ' Without 
some knowledge of antiquities, neither old laws, nor many important 
usages in languages, in the affairs of nations, and in public rites and 
ceremonies, can be understood. The explanation of these is grateful 
to numerous individuals, and productive of useful discoveries, relative 
to titles, to honors, and to property. 

600. Chronology assigns to events the order of time in 
which they happened, and, therefore, without it, a relation 
of facts must be a mass of confusion, which the memory 
cannot retain, nor the understanding apply to any useful 
purpose. Chronology forms into a system the transactions 
of nations, and distinguishes the progress of science, of 
manners, and of arts. The revolutions of the heavenly 
bodies are allowed to be the best, and the most universal 
measures of time ; but the practice of observing these revo- 
lutions with accuracy is of late acquisition, and appears not 
till considerable progress has been made in mathematics 
and astronomy. 

Ohs. The chronology of ancient history is, for this reason, not a 
little imperfect, because it is difficult to reduce to any fixed point 
the eras from which the authors reckon. Even the commencement 
of the Olympiads, and the building of Rome, are not perfectly de- 

23 .■ ^ f J 



282 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

teriuined ; wliile the chronology of the Jews, and of the early Greeks, 
is hardly supported by belter evidence than conjetture. 

Illus. The chronology, then, of history, is ascertained for a period 
extending back\vard two thousand six hundred years from the com- 
mencement of the Olympiads (about eight hundred years before the 
birth of Christ) to the present time. The onlij loriWn records which 
exist previous to the commencement of the Olympiads, are the books 
of the Old Testament ; and as the authors either could not, or did not 
fix their chronology, many systems have been formed to supply that 
defect. The most rational and satisfactory of these systems is that 
advanced by Sir Isaac Newton. 

601. As the design of Chronology is to determine the 
time, the purpose of Geography is to fix the place of the 
transactions recorded in history. Geography exhibits in 
miniature the positions of all the places on the surface of 
the globe, with their bearings or relative situations. It 
Drings the surface of the earth in some measure under the 
eye of the spectator, and communicates a more perfect idea 
of its form, and of its parts, than could be conveyed by an 
actual survey. 

Illus. It is commonly divided into two parts, general and particu- 
lar. The former treats of the figure of the earth, and the theory of 
winds, tides, and currents. Particular geography, delineates the 
situations of kingdoms, cities, rivers, mountains, coasts, and seas. 
When the situations of these are understood, the reader more easily 
comprehends the transactions of which these form the field ; the 
marches and operations of armies; the navigations and encounters 
of fleets; the effects of climate, and the produce of soils. 

602. The third branch of history is termed Natural, 
and includes a large field of knowledge, both useful and en- 
tertaining ; especially as it comprehends an account of all 
the phenomena in the heavens, and the productions on the 
earth, which are or which may be the objects of our senses, 
together with the changes that may be made on these phe- 
nomena and productions by physical causes, or the means of 
art. This part of natural history, which Lord Bacon calls 
Narrative, addresses itself to the memory. The use which 
may be made of it by induction, towards ascertaining the 
laws of nature, belongs to natural philosophy and chemistry. 

Ohs. Natural History, then, in this view, is divided into two 
branches ; one containing the productions of nature, whether ordinary 
and regular, or extraordinary and monstrous ; and the other, the 
productions of art. The natural historian recounts every fact and 
circumstance relative to these productions. 

608. The productions of nature are divided into 
those of the heavens, those of the atmosphere, and those of 
the earth. 



CHAP. 1. Philosophy of Human Knowhuge. 283 

604. The productions of the heavens are the phenom- 
ena of the solar system and of the fixed stars. The phenom- 
ena of the solar system are numerous and brilliant ; those 
of the fixed stars scarce contain more particulars than their 
names and positions. The phenomena of the solar system 
are copiously recorded by several popular writers, particu- 
larly by Keil, Fergusson, Vmce, La Place, and Herschel ; 
and from them it appears that nmch progress has been made 
by the moderns in this curious branch of knowledge, beyond 
what was attained by the ancients. 

Ohs. The Ptolemaic system, which placed the earth in the centre, 
was generally received by the ancients ; but it was reserved for New- 
ton, in the end of the seventeenth century, to apply to the true system 
which places the sun in the centre, the most enlightened theory ever 
devised by the mind of man, and to establish it by evidence which 
leaves no doubt of its truth, while it communicates such ample infor- 
mation as scarcely permits a desire to know more on the subject 
(See my edition of Adams's Elements of Useful Knowledge^ Book II. 

605. The phenomena of the atmosphere relate to the 
elasticity, the altitude and weight of the air ; to meteors, 
lightning, thunder, clouds, aurora borealis, snow, hail, rain; 
to the refiection and refraction of the rays of the sun, the 
rainbow, evaporation, dews, winds, &/C., all v/hich form 
curious and interesting subjects of investigation, and of the 
greater part of which modern philosophy has collected the 
history, and has endeavored to ascertain the theory. (See 
Books IV. and V. of Adams's Elements of Useful Knowl- 
edge, fifth edition.) 

606. The phenomena of the earth relates to its figure, 
to its division into land and water, and to the productions 
which are found above and below its surface. 

IIlus. 1. Its spherical figure first merits attention, which, though 
contrary to appearance, and to the opinions of the vulgar, yet is so 
completely established by physical arguments and experiments, that 
no doctrine in philosophy is better supported. 

2. Its division into land and water next attracts curiosity, and 
the large proportion which the surface of the water bears to that of 
the land. 

3. The most remarkable phenomena of the water are the tides and 
currents, together with the innumerable varieties of animals and vege- 
tables to which it affords life. 

607. With regard to land, the first phenomena which 
summon observation, are the fgures of the two great eontU 
nents, extending far, from south to north, and affording many 



284 A Grammar of Logic. book v 

varieties of climates, of soils, and of productions ; the direc- 
tion and magnitude of rivers; the extent, the altitude, and 
the figure of mountains ; the great lakes of fresh water, the 
sands and rocks with which they are interspersed. 

608. The situations and Jigares of islands next attract 
our notice, with their immense distances from one another, 
and afford curious and interesting inquiries concerning the 
manner in which they have been replenished with the ani- 
mals and vegetables they contain. 

Ohs. All these phenomena belong to the geographer to recount and 
to explain ; those we shall enumerate fall within the province of the 
natural historian. 

609. The natural historian divides the productions of the 
earth into animals, vegetables, waA minerals. 

Illus. 1. Under animals, he comprehends all living creatures, from 
man to the meanest insect ; and of every species he attempts to deliv- 
er the history, as far as observation or information can afford him 
materials. 

2. From animals, the natural historian proceeds to vegetables. He 
examines, and reduces into classes, all the plants which the earth 
produces. 

3. From the surface, he descends into the bowels of the earthy ex- 
amines the nature and position of the strata of which it is composed, 
and all the varieties of minerals which it presents to his observation. 
But natural historians have too often spent their time in idle disputes 
about classification, rather than in adding to the general stock of knowl- 
edge, and enlarging our acquaintance with the objects that exist. 

Ohs. The history of nature is, for these reasons, far from being com- 
plete ; and the whole theory of general principles, which Lord Bacon 
calls the inductive part, and v/hich he declares was totally wanting in 
his time, may still be affirmed to have advanced but a small space. 

610. The history of the mechanic arts, or ot those ex- 
periments and operations which are performed on the mate- 
rials furnished by nature, forms the last branch of knowledge 
addressed to the memory. 

Ohs. 1 . The phenomena of the fine arts will b"^ better introduced 
under the branch addressed to the imagination. 

2. It is vain, in this volume, to attempt a specification of the opera- 
tions of the mechanic or useful arts. The materials about which they 
are exerted, are almost as numerous and various as are the different 
substances and combinations of substances which this earth pre- 
sents. Should you desire more accurate information, you will have 
recourse to the works that treat exclusively on those arts, or to the 
practitioners, who can give you, in one half hour, a better insight 
into any particular art, than from books you could gain in the half of 
a year. 



CHAP II. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 



CHAPTER II. 

HUMAN KNOWLEDGE— ADDRESSED TO THE UNDER- 
STANDING. 

611. Human knowledge, as addressed to the under- 
standing, is more extensive than that addressed to the mem- 
ory, as it comprehends all the scieaces, and the theories of 
all the arts. If we divide it according to its objects, it will 
resolve itself into two departments, the knowledge of mind, 
and the knowledge of body. 

Ohs. This division would be very convenient, if mind and body 
were always found disunited, or were we not frequently obliged to 
contemplate them conjointly. But in all inquiries concerning human 
nature and human acquisitions, which constitute a large portion of 
this department of knowledge, mind and body are connected by the 
closest relations, and must be surveyed and examined in that com- 
pounded state. We are necessitated, for this reason, to adopt another 
division, more adapted to the actual arrangement of the objects in na- 
ture ; and to consider knowledge as referring to mind unconnected 
with body, or to mind and body connected, or to body unconnected 
with mind ; in other words, to consider it as referring to God and 
spirits, to man and human nature, to irrational animals, to vegetables, 
and to inanimate matter. 

612. Of the loorld of spirits we know nothing, except 
what we learn from the experience of the operations of our 
minds, and from the general analogy which we are apt to in- 
fer subsists among spirits of all orders. 

Obs. Between us and the great Spirit that made the universe, whom 
we cannot suppose to have any connection with matter, there may be, 
for any thing we know, infinite gradations of spirits, who may be 
more or less connected with body, according to their elevation in the 
scale of being. But of their natures, their endowments, their predi- 
lections, or their antipathies, we are altogether ignorant, and perhaps 
incapable of receiving information. 

613. We are no less ignorant of the nature of the first 
Spirit, particularly of what are called his incommunicable 
attributes, self-existence, eternity, omnipotence, and infini- 
ty. Though we must admit that these attributes constitute 
ingredients of the character of a perfect being, yet what the 
ingredients are, we can now form no adequate conception ; 
and perhaps we never shall be competent to the task. The 
fnoral attributes of the Almighty, goodness, mercy, judg- 
ment, and veracity, are more adapted to human comprehen- 

23* 



286 A Gra7mnar of Logic. book v. 

sion, and form the ground- work of all the science we deduce 
from his nature. 

Ohs. "We possess, indeed, no adequate idea even of these attri- 
butes ; but theologians have deemed it fair to presume, that these at- 
tributes resemble in quahty, though very different in degree, the vir- 
tues which are distinguished by the same names among men. The 
delineation of the doctrines and principles which result from these at- 
tributes, forms the science of natural religion, and part of the science 
of metaphysics. 

614. Natural reli^^ion comprehen*. c the proofs for the 
existence of God, which result from the order, the beauty, 
and the design conspicuous in the works of nature. We 
cannot controvert the reality of these qualities, nor suppose 
that the works of nature came into existence without a cause. 
No other solution can be admitted, than that they originated 
from some great, good, and wise Being, who made all beings, 
and who governs all nature ; who can act from no motive, 
and upon no system, which embrace not general happiness ; 
who has a right to command the obedience of every crea- 
ture, and in obeying whom only a rational agent can expect 
happiness. 

Ohs. The metaphysical part of knowledge relative to God. contains 
discussions concerning the necessity of his existence, independence, 
infinity, eternity, omnipotence, which are usually reckoned a branch 
of Pneumatics. All these topics have been often and fully canvassed, 
and little now remains to be advanced upon them. The pneumatical 
branch, in particular, has afforded ample field for profound investiga- 
tion, in which several writers of bold genius have indulged themselves 
in speculations, which transcend, perhaps, the compass of human 
powers, and which, therefore, should be relinquished as unprofitable. 
But they deserve a more severe censure, if they contribute, as they 
sometimes do, to controvert the principles of truth, and to defend the 
cause of skepticism. 

615. The branches of knowledge relative to man, respect 
either the faculties of his mind, or the use he makes of these 
faculties, first, in acquiring and communicating knowledge ; 
and, secondly, in acquiring happiness. The science which 
explains the faculties is a branch of Pneumatics ; the sci- 
ences which teach the modes of acquiring and commnnicating 
knoivledge, are denominated Logic and Rhetoric ; and the 
science which delineates the road to happiness, has obtained 
the name of Morality. 

616. Pneumatics form a general history of the faculties 
of the mind. The exertions of these faculties constitute the 
sciences of logic, rhet<ric, and morality. 

Ohs. Pnef^t^tics, and these sciences, for this reason, run into 



CHAP II. Philosophy of Humaa Knowledge. 287 

one another; and in general views of human knowiedo-o, it is un- 
necessary and inconvenient to contemplate them apart. We shall, 
therefore, proceed to the latter sciences, tlie survey of which Vv'ill af- 
ford a place for exhibiting every thing valuable in the science of 
pneumatics. 

617. Logic, or the art which delineates the progress of 
the understanding in the investigation of truth, contains, as 
we have seen, three parts — the doctrine of ideas, of proposi- 
tions, of reasoning or proof But on all these we have de- 
livered our opinion pretty fully in the preceding Books, and 
shall not, therefore, now enlarge. 

61S. Rhetoric includes, at least presupposes, the arts 
subservient to retention and recollection ; but its proper 
business is to unfold the art of communication. 

Itlus. The arts subservient to retention and recollection, are those 
of writing and printing; by which general knowledge is accumulated, 
present inquirers are made acquainted with the acquisitions of prece- 
ding ages, and may transmit their stores to posterity. The art of com- 
munication is conversant about gt-ammarj composition, and criticisTn. 

619. Grammar divides words into classes, and treats of 
their inflections, their syntax, and their prosody. 

620. Composition teaches us to communicate our 
thoughts with perspicuity and proper ornament. 

621. Criticism informs us whether we have been suc- 
cessful. It qualifies us to read v/ith discernment and im- 
provement, and to determine the literary merit of the 
performances we peruse. [See my Grammar o/* Rhetoric, 
Chap. II. Book V.) 

622. Morality, or the science of happiness, may be di- 
vided into two great branches, one relative to individuals, 
and the other relative to communities, 

Illus. 1. The branch respecting individuals comprehends many 
important topics of investigation ; namely, that the inhabitants of such 
a compound constitution as is the human, consisting of reason, con- 
science, many passions and appetites, must result from an arrange- 
ment which permits gratification to each of these parts, in proportion 
to its dignity and consequence, and that this arrangement is recom- 
mended by the principles of virtue ; that the laws of liuman conduct 
are manifestly marked by the nature of man ; and that his consti- 
tution points out the will of his Creator, with the obligations to in- 
tegrity which arise from this will ; that the performance of the duties 
which man owes to his Maker, his neighbor, and himself, is not only 
dictated by obligation, but also by interest, because, in proportion as 
he deviates from these duties, he deviates from happiness ; and that 
the htst man is, anc must be, the happiest , as virtue is the truest wiy- 



288 A Grammar of Logic, book v 

dom, the best knowledge, and the most solid consolation ; while 
vice is folly, ignorance, and misery ! (See Chapter XII. Book II. 
Moral Perception.) 

2. The morality that regards the happiness of communities, consti- 
tutes the science of politics, which resolves itself into three branches. 

The first, containing the laws of peace and war, or the rules which 
guide the intercourse of co^imunities, founded on the practice of 
civilized nations, and the dictates of equity. 

The second, delineating the different civil governments which have 
been contrived or adopted to secure the safety of states, with the pros- 
perity and comfort of individuals. 

And the th'rd, exhibiting economical arrangements, or the lawa 
which punish crimes, and encourage industry, protect and cherieh 
commerce and arts. 

CoroL From the topics which constitute the sciences of morality 
and politics, it appears, that they are of the greatest importance both 
to individuals and communities. As soon, therefore, as human na- 
ture acquired any degree of refinement, and virtue and industry were 
found to be subservient to its felicity, these sciences could not fail to 
attract the attention both of the man of speculation and the man of 
business. They must have been found to be the best guides of the 
statesman and of the private citizen. Theories and discussions con- 
cerning them are accordingly discovered in early periods of society ; 
to which have been added such copious improvements, by the en- 
lightened genius of later times, that few branches of knowledge seem 
more completely investigated. It is pleasant to think, that the mind 
of man has been adequate to any satisfactory investigation. In very 
few sciences has it been more successful. 

623. Human knowledge, relative to body, animated or 
inanimated, is divided into three branches. 

Thejirst, containing the metaphysics of body, or an ac- 
count of its general properties, extension, solidity, impene- 
trability, motion, vacuum, &c. 

The second, regarding the surfaces of bodies, or the com- 
putation of the quantities of which these surfaces consist. 

And the third, respecting the internal parts of bodies, 
or their structure and constitution. Every inquiry relative 
to body must be comprehended under some one of these 
branches. 

nius. 1. In discussing the metaphysics or general properties of body, 
we discover that extension is an essential quality, and that it is the 
chief quality which distinguishes body from spirit. 

2. We inquire, further, whether all matter be solid and impenetrable^ 
that is, whether it resists the entrance of extraneous matter into the 
place it occupies, however impelled by any force 5 and we find, that 
though some matter is compressible, yet that all matter resists the en- 
trance of extraneous matter into the place it occupies, till it be per 
mitted to retire, and th'^t in this sense it is solid and impenetrable. 



CHAP. 1. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 289 

3. We discover, also, that motion is an occasional property of body, 
though it seems incapable of assuming that property to itself. It 
must receive motion from some external power, but when received, 
it retains motion till it is deprived of that property by some other, or 
by the same external power. 

4. We inquire, next, whether all space is filled with matter , or 
whether nature admits a vacuum, that is, space void of body. This 
question has been the cause of long and bitter controversy, one 
sect of philosophers maintaining, that all space is full of matter, and 
that nature abhors a vacuum, which were the sentiments of the Car- 
tesian school ; while the greater part of the followers of JS^eiotoii have 
embraced the doctrine of a vacuum, and have been of opinion, that 
the phenomena of the air-pump alone are sufficient to establish that 
doctrine. 

624. The sciences concerned about the surfaces of bodies 
are three, Arithmetic, Geometry, and Natural Philoso- 
phy, which were called by the ancients Mathemata, or ^^ the 
most illustrious knowledge," on account of the importance 
of the truths they contain, and the complete evidence by 
u^hich they are supported. 

Illus. 1. Arithmetic, which, in an extended sense, includes algebra, 
is the science of computation. Its object is quantity discrete, or di- 
vided into parts, and the design of all its operations is, to ascertain 
the numbers of these parts, as far as the knowledge of them may be 
subservient to the purposes of human life. 

2. All we can wish to know relative to numbers, is, to determine 
the amount of particular sums of units, which is obtained by the 
operation called addition; or to ascertain their difference, which is 
performed by the operation called subtraction. 

3. Into these operations, therefore, all the operations of arithmetic 
and algebra, however intricate and remote, are resolvable. 

4. Multiplication and division are nothing but abridgments of 
addition and subtraction. 

5. Many of the operations of arithmetic and algebra depend upon 
the doctrine of proportion ; and in all these operations, if three of 
the terms be known, the fourth may be found, by the rule of three 
in arithmetic, or by an algebraic equation. The foundation of botli 
methods is, that the product of the extremes is equal to that of the 
means. 

625. The investigations of algebra differ not essentially 
from those of arithmetic, except in these three particulars. 
Algebraic Investigations proceed by equations, in which the 
quantity sought is included ; they are expressed by letters 
instead of figures ; and they may be applied to continuous 
quantity as well as to discrete. 

rdus. In all arithmetical and algebraical questions, something is 
given, and something sought; or something is known, and some- 
thing unknown. Between these, some ratio may generally be dis- 



290 A Grammar of Logic, book v. 

covered, so that if both the given and the sought quantities be 
denoted by symbols or letters, an equation may be deduced from that 
ratio, which will involve the value of the unknown quantity. When 
the equation is found, the sequel of the operation is easy ; for it is 
always practicable, by means of addition and subtraction, to place 
the known quantities on one side of the equation, and the unknown 
quantity on the other, from which position its value will be apparent. 

626. The symbols or letters of an equation may express 
either numerical or mathematical quantities ; they may sig- 
nify lines as well as numbers. The addition, then, of two 
letters, may denote the sum of two numbers, or the length 
of two lines ; and the multiplication of two letters may sig- 
nify the product of two numbers, or the rectangle contained 
by two lines. 

Ohs. It is this capacity of denoting quantities of all sorts, which 
has procured to algebra the name of universal arithmetic, and from 
its capacity of operating with unknown quantities, as if they were 
known, it has obtained the name of analysis^ and has superseded, in 
a great measure, the analytic method of the ancients. 

627. Algebra has been particularly useful in explaining 
the operations of arithmetic, the extraction of roots, and the 
properties of curve lines. In all which cases it has commu- 
nicated the most important information, and has facilitated 
exceedingly the progress of science. 

Ohs. But the application of it to numerical questions, which was 
the chief use of it previous to the middle of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, was rather a matter of amusement than of utility. Des Cartes 
first employed it in geometrical questions, since which time it has 
been the favorite mode of investigation. The ancient method of 
analysis may excel it in simplicity and elegance, but in point of 
expedition, and extensive use, in the most difficult physical re- 
searches, the resources of algebra are important, and its superiority 
IS decisive. 

628. The ancient and elegant method of computing con- 
tinuous quantity, or the extent of the surfaces and the solid-^ 
ity of bodies, is geometry, the science of superficies and of 
solids. The elements of this science are divided into three 
parts ; the first, treating of the properties of plain figures ; 
the second, of those of solids ; and the third, of those of the 
curve lines, called Conic Sections. 

lllus. 1 . Euclid has discussed the first in his first six books ; the 
second, in his eleventh and twelfth ; and Apollonius, the third, in 
his elaborate treatise on the subject. In all these works, the merit 
of the ancient geometers is very great. 

2. The Elements of Euclid, it seems, are the most perfect pro- 
ductions in science, for all th? ingenuity of modern times has not 



CHAP. II. Philosophy of ttuman Knowledge, 291 

added to their merit, nor superseded their use. They appear to have 
sprung nearly as complete and satisfactory from the hands of their 
author, as we still survey them. 

3. The cones of Apollonius display profound knowledge, and 
great industry, but they are not so finished as the Elements. The 
arrangement of them has been improved, several of the demonstra- 
tions have been abridged and generalized, and many useful corolla- 
ries have been subjoined by the additional attention of modern 
mathematicians. 

Ohs. But if we except some progress made in the doctrine of the 
sphere, and of eclipses, by Proclus; in the . investigation of the me- 
chanical powers, hydrostatics, and the art of calculating curvilineal 
spaces, from the method of approximation, by Archimedes ; we have 
enumerated all the advancements achieved by the ancients in this 
most illustrious of sciences. They had acquired little knowledge 
of mixed mathematics, or the application of them to physical pur- 
poses, now called Natural Philosophy. They knew nothing of the 
true solar system, nor of the laws that direct its motions, which Sir 
Isaac Newton has investigated with so much success and universal 
applause. They knew something of the doctrine of reflected light, 
as we learn from the famous contrivance of Archimedes, for setting 
fire to the Roman ships at the siege of Syracuse, by means of burn- 
ing-glasses. But they seem to have understood little of the theory 
of optics, and nothing of the curious doctrine of light and colors. 

629. The refined and abstract nature of the higher parts 
of mathematics will prevent them from being objects of gen- 
eral attention ; but all philosophers and artists may, notwith- 
standing, avail themselves of the practical principles they 
present; and every inquirer who can pretend to the advan- 
tages of a liberal education, should study the elementary 
branches of the Mathematics. 

630. Independent of forming a part of polite education, 
and of the advantage derived from the salutary exercise of 
the reasoning faculty, the study of Euclid demands attention 
on account of the necessary connection which Geometry has 
with many of the common and useful arts. 

lllns. 1. The principles of all sorts of machinery are derived from 
his Elements, together with the laws which direct the most profitable 
application of force, whether of animals, of water, or of air. 

2. The art of surveying is an immediate practice of the most simple 
deductions of this science, and of course the arts of delineating maps 
and charts, which convey, in a manner satisfactory and expeditious, 
the knowledge of the situations and bearings of places on the earth 
which we have never seen. 

3. The whole theory of longitude and latitude is deduced from the 
same source, without which neither the construction of maps, charts, 
nor globes, could have existed. The face of the earth would have 
remained unknown, as navigation must have been confined to the 
ancient dangerous an^ circumscribed methid of coasting. 



292 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

4. The useful and ingenious art of ship-huilding owes all, or the 
greater part, of its merits to the principles of mathematics. 

5. Fortification and gunnery ^ these dreadful, but, it seems, neces- 
sary arts, have derived almost all their improvements from the same 
origin. In a word, in whatever light we survey the Elements of 
Euclid, whether as an useful or an ornamental study, they merit 
highly the attention of every person who is ambitious of distinguish- 
ing himself, either as a philosopher or as a man of business. 

631. The third division of knowledge respecting matter 
explains the branches that regard the nature, the structure^ 
and the composition of bodies. 

632. This compartment is subdivided into three parts; 
first ^ the general laws or properties of bodies ; secondly, the 
interna] structure of animals, with their diseases and cures ; 
and thirdly ,^ the ingredients or component parts of bodies. 

The first constitutes the science, or the philosophy of nat- 
ural history ; the second, medicine; and the third, chemis- 
try. We formerly mentioned natural history as a record 
of facts; we now speak of it as a branch of philosophy. 

Obs. Lord Bacon anxiously and repeatedly recommends the study 
of natural history as necessary to furnish materials for erecting the 
great temple of natural knowledge. The philosopher investigates, 
compares, compounds, and separates these materials, till he deduces 
the general laws of agreement and of disagreement among the works 
of God, and establishes the doctrine of an enlightened and a satis- 
factory science. Lord Bacon himself led the way in this new and 
noble path to fame ; and though the progress of that eminent inquirer 
could not be great, yet he had the merit of foreseeing and predicting 
the achievements of posterity. 

633. Of the three classes of natural history — animals, 
vegetables, and minerals — that of animals exhibits the most 
illustrious marks of wisdom and design, though the other 
two are not destitute of conspicuous specimens of the same 
qualities. {Art. 609. lllus. 1, 2, 3, and Obs.) 

Obs. 1. Not to mention the instincts, or mental powers which all 
animals possess in some degree, and which man in great eminence 
possesses ; their external form, the construction of their bodies, and 
the final causes, or uses to which their members are subservient, 
display marks of contrivance superior to those found in any other 
classes of the works of nature. 

lllus. 1. Animals possess the power of self-motion, of sensation, 
of seeking and appropriating nourishment. Their organs are more 
complicated, and their changes more rapid, than those of vegeta- 
bles. Some vegetables possess a degree of irritability. They con- 
tract on the application of stimuli. Few, however, are gifted with 
this power, far the greater number being susceptible of no move- 
ment, except what results from the elasticity of their roots, branches, 
and leaves. They have not, like animals, any feeling of pleasure 



otlAP. 11. Philosophy of Human Knowledgt. 293 

or pain ; and they car only imbibe nourishment from those parts of 
matter with which they are in permanent contact. 

2. But though these differences are conspicuous in the greater 
part of animals and vegetables, yet in the lower species of the for- 
mer, and in the higher species of the latter, they in a great measure 
disappear ; and it is difficult to determine where the class of ani- 
mals terminates, and that of vegetables begins. The polypus, which 
generates as many animals of its kind, as are the parts into which it 
may be divided, seems not to be endowed with a much higher degree 
of vitality, than that which is possessed by many vegetables. 

3. Both in the animal and vegetable kingdom, the smaller spe- 
cies are more numerous than the larger. Thus, there are many 
more insects than there are men ; the plants of grass are more nu- 
merous than the trees ; and the number of flies surpasses that of 
horses. 

4. As animals descend to vegetables, so the latter approach min 
erals. Minerals are called inorganized, or inanimate bodies. They 
seem to compose the mass of the globe ; certainly, at least, its ex- 
ternal crust. They increase in volume j but this seems to arise 
entirely from the juxtaposition of parts, and the force of attraction, 
or that assimilating power of nature which generates from different 
combinations of the same materials, parts of such different constitu- 
tions and uses. The ascent of juices in vegetables seems to depend, 
on the principles by which water rises in capillary tubes. Vegetables 
grow with a rapidity palpable and conspicuous. In a short space of 
time many of them reach perfection, after which they suffer decay, 
and finally dissolution. The growth and decay of minerals is so slow 

^and imperceptible, as to render it sometimes doubtful whether they 
are susceptible of these qualities. Vegetables have organs by which 
they elaborate the nourishment attracted from Uie earth and the ax 
Minerals seem to undergo no change but what irises from the chemi- 
cal action of bodies on one another. 

Ohs. 2. Commercial intercourse, and voyages of discovery, ^-dd- 
ed to literary peregrinations and correspondence, have left unknown 
to modern naturalists no important region almost on the face of the 
globe, and have communicated very satisfactory accounts of the great- 
er part of the countries it contains. The kingdoms of animals and 
plants have been pretty fully investigated, and minerals of late have 
been favored with a large share of attention. 

634. The second branch of knowledge relative to the struc- 
ture of bodies, is medicine, whose chief object is to explain 
the nature of the human constitution, the diseases to which 
men are liable, and the remedies by which they may be cured, 

Ohs. The human body is one of the most curious pieces of mechan- 
ism which nature can present, and furnishes a most important sub- 
ject of philosophical investigation ; yet necessity, not curiosity, pro- 
duced the science of medicine, and led to its various improvements. 
A similar attachment to utility still confines the researches of the 
physician almost entirely to the human body ; but there is much use- 
ful knowledge to be obtained also from an a -.entive examination of 

24 



294 A Graw/mar of Logic. BOOK v. 

the structure of other animals, whose org. is and vital functions are, 
in many respects, analogous to those of man. 

635. The bodies of men, like those of other animals, nat- 
urally accommodate themselves to their situation. If ex- 
posed to the severities of climate, if accustomed to exercise, 
and inured to wholesome, though coarse fare, they acquire a 
firmness of texture and a soundness of constitution, which 
either repel the encroachments of disease, or set its attacks 

/at defiance till an advanced age. But when the efforts of 
art pretend to set at defiance the operations of nature ; when 
men attempt to adapt the climate to the constitution, instead 
of accommodating the constitution to the climate, nature 
makes ample reprisals, and loads with maladies those who 
seek indulgences reprobated by health. The art of medicine, 
accordingly, has been employed chiefly to counteract the in- 
roads of luxury, and much ingenuity and industry have been 
exerted to accomplish this important design. 

Ohs. 1. The human body has been examined, and all its vital mo- 
tions have been studied with the utmost care. The knife of the 
anatomist has been sedulously and sometimes successfully employ- 
ed in investigating the structure and functions of the different 
parts of the body. The effects of thousands of medicines have 
been tried, and the influence of air, exercise, and climate, has b^n 
observed. Much learning, sagacity, and experience, have been ex- 
erted with assiduity and perseverance, to bring the healing art to 
perfection. 

2. But, notwithstanding the combined industry of ancient and 
modern physicians, the structure and uses of many parts of the body 
are still involved in such impenetrable darkness, that the nature of 
the changes which take place in disease, and the means by which 
these morbid changes are to be removed, are in many cases per- 
fectly unknown. From these causes, the science must naturally be 
imperfect. From them also have probably originated those absurd 
conjectures and theories which so long disgraced the healing art. 
Notwithstanding these disadvantages, the exertions of the physician, 
properly directed, are capable of affording the most essential services 
to mankind. 

636. Chemistry, the last branch of knowledge which re- 
gards the structure of bodies, presents a large field of in- 
struction and amusement. The object of chemistry is to 
discover the qualities of bodies by means of analysis and com- 
position, and to observe the results that take place from these 
operations. With this view, it investigates the effects of 
air J light J heat, Slc. on the bodies in nature, and aM the 
changes which these undergo, whether from their spontane- 
ous action on each other, or frori the operations of art. 



CHAP. Til. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 295 

lllus. 1. B}' analysis the chemist endeavors to discover the com- 
ponent parts of bodies, or to reduce them to their elementary princi- 
ples. Composition, or synthesis, reverses this process, and forms 
new compounds by the union of bodies which were formerly dis- 
tinct. The latter furnishes the greatest number of truths, and those 
of greatest importance, as in chemistry, there are few, if any opera- 
tions, in which some combinations do not take place. Perhaps it is 
scarcely possible in any case to determine what bodies are element- 
ary, and what are not so, many being now discovered to be com- 
pounded which were formerly considered as simple. 

2. To discover elementary princi'ples, however, is not the most 
important part of the science. The exertions of the chemist should 
always be directed to discover the laws on which the operations of 
his art depend, the order of the different combinations of bodies 
with one another, and the attractions which regulate these combi- 
nations. 

3. While chemistry confines its inquiries to these operations, it 
deserves every commendation, and repays, with much emolument, 

"the labors of the philosopher. But this, like other branches of 
science, has been disgraced by the projects of empirics, who pre- 
tended not to investigate, but to rival nature. Of late the proper ob- 
jects of chemistry have sometimes been mistaken, and many have 
endeavored to extend its principles to the explanation of phenom- 
ena to which they could not apply ; — but chemistry, however, has 
already done much, and promises to do much more, in elucidating 
and explaining many laws of nature, and in simplifying many pro- 
cesses in the arts. 



CHAPTER III. 

HUMAN KNOWLEDGE, ADDRESSED TO THE IMAGINATION. 

637. Though the understanding is the noblest faculty 
of the human mind, yet its exefcise is not always attended 
with the most pleasure. Many of its exertions are extreme- 
ly fatiguing, sometimes even -painful ; they are recommended 
chiefly by the importance of the consequences which they 
involve, and the ascendency that they procure. This re- 
mark, however, applies chiefly to those exertions which are 
purely scientijic, and which are occupied about long and 
intricate trains of reasoning. The most popular, the most 
familiar, and certainly not the least useful exertions, are 
engaged about the objects of the other faculties to which 
knowledge is addressed, — the memory and the imagina- 

TIOK 



296 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

638. Memory is the faculty whose exercise yields least 
employment, its chief use being to furnish materials for the 
operations of the understanding, (^r^. 247.) But the im- 
AGiNAnoN partakes deeply of the pleasure resulting from the 
contemplation of all the works of genius; and is that faculty 
whose exertions convey the most exquisite satisfaction that 
can b^ received, independent of moral sentiment and the 
affections of the heart. [Art. 264.) 

lllus,!. In the most captivating objects of the imagination, how- 
ever, there is always intermixed a large portion of those qualities 
which recommend the objects to the understanding, and gain its ap- 
probation. Without this intermixture, the objects of imagination 
may excite a transient surprise, or momentary gratification ; but 
they will never please upon reflection, nor will they long engage the 
attention of correct taste. (Aj't. 265.) 

2. Even poetry must ]^Yesent sound sense ^Sind a. legitimate logic, and 
PAINTING must exhibit design, pro'priety, and utility, before they can 
obtain a more favorable appellation than the offspring of a disordered 
or distempered fancy. (Jlrt. 267 and 268.) 

639. These remarks show how the objects of one faculty 
solicit the attention of another, and circumscribe the objects 
which we are now to represent as addressed immediately to 
the imagination. 

640. The word poetry {Art. 591. lllus. 3.) was appro- 
priated to characterize these objects ; but in this case it must 
be extended much beyond its common acceptation. It must 
receive a sense not restricted to metrical composition, but 
extended to all elegant productions of art, whether 
communicated by language, by the pencil, or the graving 
tool. It must comprehend, in a word, all ornamented or 
FIGURATIVE COMPOSITION, whether in prose or verse ; the 
exertions of the statuary, of the painter, and of the engra- 
ver ; and the most meritorious exhibitions of the architect, 
of the MUSICIAN, and of the gardener. 

Ohs. As far as the objects of the Imagination can be expressed by 
language, I have anticipated the view of them in my Grammar of 
Rhetoric, in which it has been my endeavor, not only to introduce 
the reader to an acquaintance with poetic compositions, but to ren- 
der him a judge of their merit, and to guide his exertions in similar 
attempts. It remains, then, only that we conclude this survey by 
some remarks on the other branches of knowledge which we have 
mentioned. 

641. Greece is not the country in which we are to look 
for the greatest and most useful improvements in the ne- 
cessary'arts of life ; for in agricufture, manufactures, and 
commerce, it was behind Egypt and Phoenicia ; but, in aU 



CHAP. III. Philosopliij of Human Knoioledge. 297 

that respects the ^w^; arts — Poetry, Rhetoric, Sculpture, 
and Architecture, no nation of antiquity rivalled Greece; 
and the models which yet remain of these are not only 
models of imitation, but standards of excellence to the mod- 
erns, in the judgment of the most civilized nations of our 
own times. In sketching the outline of the exertions of the 
statuary and the architect, we shall, therefore, view Greece 
at the period when the active spirit of the Athenians, which, 
after the defeat of Xerxes, would have languished, but for 
the new direction that luxury gave it, began to display itself, 
and the arts broke out at once with surprising lustre 

642. The age of Pericles, the era of luxury and splendor, 
was the golden age of the arts in Greece. The acquisition 
of fame was then the capital inducement to exertions of ge- 
nius ; but as a secondary excitement, we must assign a large 
portion to the Theology of the Greeks, which furnished am- 
ple exercises for the genius of the architect and the sculptor. 

Obs. But that which enabled the Grecian artist to excel in sculpture 
was the advantage he enjoyed of studying the human figure naked, 
in all its various attitudes m the Palestra, and in the public games. 
The antique statues have, thence, a superior grandeur united with 
perfect simplicity, because the attitude is not the result of an artificial 
disposition of the figure, as in the modern academies, but is an ex- 
hibition of unconstrained nature. 

Example. Thus, in the dying gladiator, we observe both the relux- 
ation of the muscles, and the visible failure of strength and life ; we 
cannot thence doubt, that nalure was the sculptor's immediate model 
of imitation. 

643. The Grecian ArcJiitectw^e universally allowed to be 
the most perfect, consists of the Doric, the Ionic, and the 
Corinthian orders ; and these three several orders are re- 
spectively adapted to three different kinds of buildings. 

Rlus. 1. Thus, the Doric, possessing masculine grandeur, and a 
superior degree of strength over both the Ionic and Corinthian, is ad- 
mirably adapted to buildings of great magnitude and of a sublime 
character ; for with chasteness and simplicity the character of sublimity 
is essentially connected. 

Example 1. The temple of Theseus, at Athens, constructed ten years 
after the battle of Marathon, is of this order, and at this day almost 
entire. 

lllus. 2. The Ionic order possesses lightness and elegance. As 
the Doric boasts masculine grandeur, the Ionic values itself on its 
feminine elegance: it is besides simple; for simplicity is an essential 
requisite of genuine beauty. 

Example 2. The Temple of Apollo, at Miletus, was built after this 
order; as were also that of the Delphian Oracle, and of Diana, at 
Ephesus. 

24* 



298 A Grammar of IjOgic. book v. 

Illus. 3. The Corinthian order, possessing an exuberance ot rich- 
ness, marks an age of luxury and magnificence, when pomp and 
splendor, without extinguishing the tafite for the suljlime and beauti- 
ful, had become the ruling passions. But this union of these charac- 
ters satisfies not the chastened judgment; nor does it please, except 
where the taste has been corrupted by the ingredients of luxury and 
magnificence. 

644. The Tuscan and Composite orders are both of Ital- 
ian origin ; the former, nearly allied to the Grecian style, 
possesses an inferior degree of elegance ; and the latter, as its 
name imports, shows that in the three original orders the 
Greeks had exhausted all the principles of grandeur and of 
beauty ; and that it was not possible to form a fourth order 
without a combination of the former. 

645. The Gothic Architecture presents no contradic- 
tions to the foregoing definitions and illustrations. It must, 
however, be allowed, that the effect which it produces cannot 
be entirely accounted for by the rules of symmetry or h'ir- 
mony in the proportion between the several parts ; but de- 
pends chiefly on certain ideas of vastness, gloominess, and 
solemnity, which are reckoned powerful ingredients in the 
snblime. 

646. Gardening is now improved into ?ijine art {Art. 264. 
Illus. 1 and 2.) ; and when we talk of a garden, without any 
epithet, we mean not the garden of Alcinous, described by 
Homer, but a pleasure garden ; a spot of ground which the 
** prophetic eye of taste" (Art. 269. and its Illustrations) 
has laid out for beauty solely, and which, beside the emo- 
tions of beauty from regularity, order, proportion, color, and 
utility, can raise the emotions of grandeur, of sweetness, of 
gayety, of melancholy, of wildness, and even of surprise or 
wonder. But we have anticipated, under the head of im- 
agination, Chapter IX. Book II., what might here become 
the materials of a train of reasoning on gardening. 

647. As to Painting and Engraving, the best service I 
can here render the reader will be to sketch the state of those 
arts in the age of Leo X. 

648. The human mind seems to take, in certain periods, 
a strong bent to one class of pursuits in preference to all 
others, as in the age of Leo X. to the fine arts of painting, 
sculpture, and architecture. This direction of the human 
mind may be, in part, accounted for from moral causes ; 
such as the peaceful state of a country, the genius or taste of 
its sovereigns, their liberal encouragement of those arts, th^ 



CHAP. 111. Philosophy of Human Knowledge, 299 

generii enialation that arises where one or two artists are 
of confessed eminence, and the aid which they derive from 
the studies and works of each other. 

G49. Under the ruins of the Roman empire, the arts of 
painting and sculpture were buried in the west, and gradu- 
ally declined in the later ages, as we may perceive by 
the series of the coins of the lower empire. The Ostro- 
goths, instead of destroying, sought to preserve the monu- 
ments of taste and genius, and became the inventors of some 
of the arts dependent on design, as the composition of Mo- 
saic. But, in the middle ages, those arts were at a very low 
Qbh m Europe. They began, however, to revive a little to- 
wards the end of the thirteenth century. A Florentine, 
named Cimabue, beheld the paintings of some Greek artists 
in one of the churches, and began to attempt similar per- 
formances. He soon excelled his models, and his scholars, 
Ghiotto, Gaddi, Tasi, Cavallini, and Stephano Fiorentino, 
formed an academy at Florence, in 1350. 

650. But the works of these early painters, with some 
fidelity of imitation, had not a spark of grace or elegance ; 
and such continued to be the state of the art till towards the 
end of the fifteenth century, when it arose at once to perfec- 
tion. Raphael at first painted in the hard style of his mas- 
ter Perugino; but soon deserted it, and at once struck into 
the noble, elegant, and graceful, imitatioii of the genuine 
antique. This change was the result of genius alone ; for 
the ancient sculptors were familiar to the early painters, 
though they had looked on them with cold indifference. 
But they were now surveyed by the eyes of Michael Angelo, 
Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci, geniuses animated by a 
similar spirit of taste, and a similar solidity of judgment, 
that formed the Grecian Apelies, Xeuxis, Glycon, Phidias, 
and Praxiteles. 

651. Italy, however, was not alone thus distinguished ; 
for Germany, Flanders, and Switzerland, produced in the 
same age artists of consummate merit. 

652. Before we notice these, we shall briefly characterize 
the schools of Italy. First in order is the school of Flor- 
ence, of which the most eminent master was Michael An- 
gelo, born in 1474. His works are distinguished by a pro- 
found knowledge of the anatomy of the human figure, perhaps 
chiefly formed on the contemplation of the ancient sculptures. 
His paintings <?xhibit the grand, the sublime, and the terri- 



300 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

ble , but he drew not its simple grace and beauty from the 
antique. 

Second. — Rapiiael d'Urbnio, born 1483, founded the Ro- 
man school. This great painter stands unrivalled in inven- 
tion, grace, majestic simplicity, and forcible expression of 
the passions : he united almost every excellence of the art, 
far beyond all competition. .From the antique he borrovred 
liberally, but w^ithout servility. 

T/Hr^.— The most eminent artists of the school of Lom- 
bardy, or the Venetian, were Titian, Giorgione, Corregio, 
and Parmeggiano. 

lilus. 1. Titian is most eminent as a portrait-painter, and chiefly 
in the painting of female beauty. Such is the truth of his color- 
ing, that his figures look nature itself. It was the testimony of 
Michael Angelo to the merits of Titian, that, if he had studied at 
Rome or Florence, amidst the masterpieces of antiquity, he would 
have eclipsed all the painters in the world. Giorgione, with simi- 
lar merits, was cut off in the flower of his youth. Titian lived to 
the age of an hundred. Corregio, superior in coloring, and knowl- 
edge of light and shade, to all that have preceded or followed him, 
owed every thing to study. In other painters, those effects are fre- 
quently accidental, as we observe they are not uniform : thus, Par- 
meggiano, imitating the graceful manner of Raphael, carried it to a 
degree of affectation. 

2. In these three original Italian schools — the character of the 
Florentine is grandeur and sublimity, with great excellence of design, 
but a want of grace, of skill in coloring, and effect of light and shade — 
the character of the Roman is equal excellence of design, grandeur, 
tempered with moderation and simplicity, a high degree of grace 
and elegance, and a superior knowledge, though not an excellence, in 
coloring — the character of the Venetian is the perfection of coloring, 
and the utmost force of light and shade, with an inferiority in every 
other particular. 

653. The second Roman school succeeded the school of 
Raphael, and was called the school of the Caraccis, three 
brothers, the most excellent of whom was Annibal. His 
scholars were, Guercino, Albano, Lanfranc, Dominichino, 
and Guido. Though all eminent painters, the first and last 
of these were the most excellent. The elegant contours of 
Gueicino, and the strength, the sweetness, and the majesty 
of Guido, are the admiration of all true judges of painting. 

654. The Flemish school, in the same age, was of a quite 
different character, and inferior to the Italian ; but it shone 
with great lustre. 

655. In the fifteenth century, oil-painting was invented 
by the Flemings ; and, in that age, Heemskirk, Frans Flo- 
ris, Q/uintin Matsys, and the German, Albert Durer, are verv 



CHAP. III. Philosophy of Human Knowledge. 301 

deservedly distinguished. Of the Fieaiish school Rubens is 
the chief ornament, though a painter of a much later age. 
His figures, though too corpulent, are drawn with great truth 
and strict observance of nature, and he possesses inexhausti- 
ble invention, and great skill in the expression of the pas- 
sions. Switzerland produced Hans Holbein, an artist of 
great eminence in portrait-painting, and remarkable for truth 
of coloring. Of his works, from his residence at the court 
of Henry VIII., there are more specimens in Britain than 
of any other foreign painter. Holland had likewise its 
painters, whose chief merit was the faithful representation 
of vulgar nature, a perfect knowledge of the mechanism 
of the art, the power of colors, and the effect of light and 
shade. 

656. But with the art of painting, sculpture and archi- 
tecture were likewise revived in the same age, and brought 
to high perfection ; and Michael Angelo's universal genius 
shone equally conspicuous in all the three departments. 
Michael's statue of Bacchus, Raphael judged to be the 
work of Phidias or Praxiteles. 

657. The Grecian architecture was first revived by the 
Florentines, in the fourteenth century ; and the cathedral 
of Pisa was partly constructed from the materials of an an- 
cient Greek temple. The art reached the highest perfec- 
tion in the age of Leo X., when the church of St. Peter's at 
Rome, under the direction of Bramante, San Gallo, Raphael, 
and Michael Angelo, exhibited the noblest specimen of ar- 
chitecture in the universe. 

658. We date the invention of the art of engraving on 
copper by Tomaso Finiguerra, a goldsmith of Florence, 
about 1460 ; and from Italy it travelled into Flanders, where 
it was first practised by Martin Scoen, of Antwerp. Albert 
Durer, his celebrated scholar, engraved with excellence 
both on copper and on wood. Etching on copper, by means 
of aquafortis, w^as discovered by Parmeggia,no, who executed 
in that manner his own beautiful designs. 

lllus. 1. No art underwent, in its early stages, so rapid An improve- 
ment as that of engraving; for, in the course of 150 years from ils in- 
vention, it nearly attained perfection; and there has been but Uttie 
proportional improvement in the last century, since the days of Aud- 
ran, Poilty, and Edelinck. 

2. The art of engraving in mezzotinto is, however, of much later 
date than the ordinary mode of engraving on copper, and was the in- 
vention of Prince Rupert, about 1650. It is characterized by a soft 



302 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

ness equal to that of the pennil, and a happy blei^Jing of light and 
shade, and is. therefore, peculiarly adapted to portraits, in which those 
requisites are highly essential. 

Obi^\ The age of Leo X. was likewise an era of very high literary 
splendor ; but to take notice of the v/riters of distinguished merit in 
that period, would compel us to launch forward into a View of the 
Progress of Literature and of the Sciences during the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries. 

659. Music has a place among the tine arts, and 'tis fit 
it should, from its commanding influence over the human 
mind, in conjunction with words. 

1/iv^s. Objects of sight may indeed contribute to the same end, but 
more faintly, as where a love poem is rehearsed in a shady grove, or 
on the bank of a purling stream ; but sounds, which are vastly more 
ductile and various, readily accompany all the social affections ex- 
pressed in a poem, especially emotions of love and pity. 

t>60. Music may, no doubt, be made to promote luxury 
and effeminacy ; but with respect to its pure and refined 
pleasures, music goes hand in hand with gardening, archi- 
tecture, ajid sculpture, her sister arts, in humanizing and 
polishing the mind. They may doubt this who have never 
felt their charms ; but the soldier, whose courage has been 
roused by music performed upon instruments without a 
voice, knows the all-powerful charms of music ; the lover, 
whose grief and pity have been raised by melancholy music, 
or by association of sounds, reminded of the mistress whose 
siren voice once ravished his soul, does not require the 
authority of Polybius to believe how dear was music to 
the Arcadians, under those great teachers, Timotheus and 
Philoxenus.* 

nius. 1. But no disagreeable combination of sounds is entitled to 
the name of music -, for all music is resolvable into melody and har- 
mony, which impjy agreeableness in their very conception. 

2. The agreeableness of vocal music differs from that of instrument- 
al ; the former, being intended to accompany words, ought to be ex- 
pressive of the sentiment which they convey ; but the latter, having 
no connection with words, may be agreeable without any relation to 
sentiment. Harmony, properly so called, though delightful when in 
perfection, hath no relation to sentiment ; and we often find melody 
without the least tincture of it. 

3. In vocal music, the intimate connection of sense and sound re- 
jects dissimilar emotions, those especially that are opposite. Sim- 
ilar emotions, produced by the sense and the sound, go generally 
into union ; and at the same time are concordant or harmonious ; 
but dissimilar emotions, forced into union by these causes intimately 
connected, obscure each other, and are also unpleasant oy discordance. 

* Polyb. Lib. IV. Cap. III. 



CHAP. III. Philosojjliy of Human Knowledge. 303 

661. These illustrations make it easy to determine what 
sort of poetical compositions are fitted for music. 

Illus. 1. As music, in all its tones, ought to be agreeable, it can 
never be concordant with any compositions in language expressing 
a disagreeable passion, or describing a disagreeable object, for here 
the emotions raised by the sense and by the sound are not only dis- 
similar, but opposite ; and such emotions, forced into union, produce 
always an unpleasant mixture. 

Example 1. Music, accordingly, is a very improper companion for 
sentiments of malice, cruelty, QnYj^ peevishness, or any other dissocial 
passion ; witness, among a thousand, King John's speech in Shak- 
speare, soliciting Hubert to murder Prince Arthur, which, even in 
the most cursory view, will appear incompatible with any sort of 
music. 

2. Music is a companion no less improper for the description of 
any disagreeable object, such as that of Polyphemus, in the 3d Book 
of the iEneid ; or that of Sin, in the 2d Book of Paradise Lost — the 
horror of the object described, and the pleasure of the music, would 
be highly discordant. 

Rlus. 2. With regard to vocal music, there is an additional reason 
against associating it with disagreeable passions. The external signs 
of such passions are painful ; the looks and gestures to the eye, and 
the tone of pronunciation to the ear : such tones, therefore, can 
never be expressed musically, for music must be pleasant, or it 
is not music. 

3. On the other hand, Music asso<ciates finely with poems that tend 
to inspire pleasant emotions : music, for example, in a cheerful tone, 
is perfectly concordant with every emotion in the same tone ; hence 
OT*^ taste for airs expressive of mirth and jollity. 

4. Sympathetic joy associates finely with cheerful music ; and sym- 
pathetic pain no less finely with music that is tender and melancholy. 
All the different emotions of \oYe,nd.v[ie\jy tenderness, concern, anxiety, 
pain of absence, hope, fear, accord delightfully with music ; and, ac- 
cordingly, a person in love, even when unkindly treated, is soothed 
by music; for the tenderness of love, still prevailing, accords with a 
melancholy strain. 

Example 3. This is finely exemplified by Shakspeare in the 4th 
Act of Othello, where Desdemona calls for a song expressive of her 
distress. Wonderful, indeed, is the delicacy of that Poet's taste, 
v/hich never fails him, not even in the most refined emotions of hu- 
man nature ! 

Obs. Melancholy music is suited to slight grief, which requires or 
admits consolation ; but deep grief, which refuses ail consolation, 
'ejects, for that reason, even melancholy music. 

Illus. 5. Where the same person is both the actor and the singer, 
as in an opera, there is a separate reason why Mi: sic should not be 
associated with the sentiments of any disagreeable passion, nor with 
the description of any disagreeable object: this separate reason is, that 
such an association is altogether unnatural. 

Example 4. The pain which a man feels who is agitated with 
malice or unjust revenge, dibqualifies him for relishing music, or 
any t\vv:s that is pleasing; and, therefore, to represent such a man. 
cont' iO nature, expressing his sentiments -in a song, caiinot ' ■ j 
agr ^le to any audience of taste. 



S04 A Grammar of Logic. book v. 

Example 5. Whatever may be the opinion of the pubHc, or of con- 
temporary critics, this Illustration appositely applies to ^' M'acheath," 
in the ^' Beggars' Opera" — a character between whom, or rather 
whose principles, and the endurance of those principles by any audi- 
ence, there is but one step to the faith of the materialist — the charac- 
ter is bold and reckless mirth, that with the desperate must he the mask 
of despair ; and as is the character, so is the horror inspired in every 
mind of pure and refined sensibility, by Macheath's mixing music, and 
his companions mingling the dance, with the agitated feelings which 
all their sophistry can never conqoor. 

JVius. 6. For a different reason). Music is improper for accompa- 
nying pleasant emotions of the more important kind ; because these 
totally engross the mind, and leave no place for music, nor for any 
sjort of amusement. 

Examjne 6. In a perilous enterprise to dethrone a tyrant, music 
would be impertinent, even where hope prevails, and the prospect 
of success is great. Alexander, attacking the Indian town, and 
mounting the wall, had certainly no impulse to exert his prowess in 
a song. 

662. It is true, that not the least regard is paid to these 
rales either in the French or Italian Opera ; and the attach- 
ment which v^e Britons have to operas, may, at first, be con- 
sidered as an argument against the doctrine I have endeav- 
ored to establish. But the general taste for operas, and 
what are called mdo-dramas, is no argument ; for in these 
compositions the passions are so imperfectly expressed, as to 
leave the mind free for relishing music of any sort indif- 
ferently ; and it cannot be denied, that the pleasure of aii 
opera is derived chiefly from the music, and scarcely at all 
from the sentiments — a happy concordance raised by the 
music and by the song is extremely rare ; and I agree with 
Lord Kaimes, that there is no example of it, unless where 
the emotion raised by the former is agreeable, as well as that 
raised by the latter.* 



* A censure of the same kind is pleasantly applied to the French ballettes 
by a celebrated writer : ^^ Si le Prince est joyeux, on prend part a sa joye, et 
['on danse : s'il est iriste, on veut Peg-a3'er, et Pon danse. Mais il y a bien 
ti'autres sujets de danses : ie plus graves actions de la vie se font en dansent. 
Les pretres dansent^ les soldats dansent, les dieux dansent, les diables danseii>, 
jn danse jusques dans les enterremens, et tout danse a propos de tout." 



THE EN1>. 



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